


No Hacks Required

by SnowyZoe



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Inner Dialogue, Out of Character Hana "D.Va" Song, Romance, Slow Burn, Swearing, Younger Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:44:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 62,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8838049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyZoe/pseuds/SnowyZoe
Summary: The bubbly online streamer, personality, and South Korean superstar known as D•Va - whose face nobody has seen - is in reality a melancholic student. Hana Song has her world turned over, however, when she and a classmate of hers are thrown into the heat of the Omnic Crisis as Overwatch's newest members.





	1. Sucker Punch

**_I don't own Overwatch._ **

 

As her opponent admitted defeat with a 'gg', Hana giggled into her microphone. Another match had been won for the world's best StarCraft player, the game having been completed in just under three minutes - the fastest time of the current night's stream. She wished she could say the game was a challenge, but when her competitor opened with a three pylon start which didn't even block their chokes, the game was on the opposite spectrum of difficult. Nevertheless, Hana had to sound adorable for her stream.

"Oof, that was a tough one!" she exclaimed into her microphone, her voice intonated into that of South Korea's favorite gamer. "Let's hope for the next one we get someone easier!"

As always, the stream's chat went wild whenever Hana spoke. They couldn't get enough of her voice. They all loved the cute, innocent, bubbly persona. Typical. It was too easy to get followers, subscribers, and donators by just simply putting up feminine sounds every now and then. When other popular streamers had to resort to being overly-loud and comedic or expose an unnecessary amount of cleavage to garner their supporters, all Hana had to do was play and speak. Combined with the mystery surrounding her real-life identity, this only attracted more fans and attention. Her chat would always say the same things.

'We love you, D•Va!'

'When's facecam!? Kappa.'

'D•Va, be my gf, please!'

' _Fucking degenerates,'_ was all Hana could think.

She popped open another can of her favorite soda as she winced whilst reading the cringe of her chat. She hated her followers. She hated her supporters. She felt that most of them, if not all, were just filthy teenage boys or men who bordered on pedophilia, drooling over the sounds of a teenage schoolgirl. She swore the average IQ of her chat must've been in the double-digits. Their stupidity, however, was an advantage as they often donated without second thought. This had helped pay for Hana's living expenses, schooling and then some. The pay had reached a six-figure range that Hana couldn't ignore. Heck, she considered dropping out of school to stream full-time.

However, she knew her idol status wouldn't last forever.

Everything had a finite lifespan.

Nothing lasted forever.

Living alone for the past few years hadn't been easy for Hana. There had been several times where her rent would be overdue, or she had the threat of school expulsion looming over her. Food and clothes used to be hard to come by as she made next to nothing when she first started streaming. Apparently, people didn't enjoy streamers who were gloomy, snarky and had a less-than friendly demeanour. There were shivering winter nights and boiling hot summers without clothes or air-conditioning. Her only companion was her computer to which she poured countless hours into.

Thousands of other teenagers from across the country were experiencing a similar situation.

Everyone had laughed at the notion of an omnic uprising. It wasn't possible. Each and every piece of machinery, and this included Hana's toaster for god's sake, was hardwired to follow Asimov's three laws of robotics. They couldn't have murdered that aristocratic family in Dresden, Germany. It was the first case of artificial intelligence inflicting harm on humans with purpose and intent. A couple months later, an arts teacher was found dead in Samara, Russia, a knife having been plunged into her sternum. Her assistant tech-bot's video feed was all the evidence police had needed to show who - or more accurately, 'what' - had committed the murder. Cases like these had started emerging from around the globe. Panic spread like wildfire throughout the populace. A dozen deaths later, it was clear that there was something wrong with the omnics. They weren't conforming to the laws.

It was if they had developed minds of their own.

As she sipped on her beverage, Hana glanced at the clock across her dimly-lit desk.

_7:08AM._

…

_Shit._

Almost falling out of her chair, Hana choked on her soda, coughing up spurts of the fizzy drink across her keyboard. It was a good thing she had muted her microphone in time, sparing her chat from her little episode. She wouldn't be able to handle another bout of emojis right now. As she regained her composure, she unmuted the mic which strung from her headset.

"Everyone, I'm going to have to end it here tonight!" she said, doing her best to feign disappointment. "Hope you've all had a good time - love, D•Va!"

She ignored the countless strings of sad emojis and weird-looking, green frogs in her chat as she closed the stream off, finally putting an end to the long night. Slipping off her headset, Hana reclined into her chair, dropping her headset onto the musty carpet with a soft thump. She used the back of her hands to rub her eyes, the pair of them having been sore from staring at a monitor for hours on end. Her fingers were rigid and her wrists ached from all the typing and mouse action she'd done.

The drawbacks of having an enormous APM, she supposed.

She had to stop doing these. Putting on an all-night stream was one thing, but to do it when the very next day she had to attend school was just plain idiotic. She'd already gotten into trouble for coming late to class. Staying back to clean chalkboards the size of billboards wasn't to her particular liking and especially now since omnic tech was banned from circulation. She used to be able to print lines on the blackboard with a simple press of a button.

Powering off her computer, Hana slumped into the bed beside her desk. Lazily, she kicked off her socks and shorts, flinging them to the other side of the bed before pulling the covers over herself and the loose t-shirt she wore. The sheets were cold. She curled up, ignoring the ice-like covers and the breeze that flew through her window.

_Just a few minutes of sleep… that's all I need._

… _Won't take long._

* * *

Light seeped into Hana's eyes as they fluttered open. Slowly, she rolled her head from its face-down position to her side, hoping to catch a glimpse of what the time was. As her vision unblurred, however, Hana's eyes shot open. Instead of seeing the edges of her computer's desk, she stared directly into the dark eyes of one of her classmates.

Ricky. The short-haired, ginger prick had a smile plastered across his face.

_What the fuck? How'd he..._

"Miss Song," a stern voice echoed in Hana's head.

Hana faced forward, her senses finally coming back to her as she realized where she was. She wasn't in her room. She was in class. Thirty-minutes late, to nobody's surprise. Unfortunately for Hana, the snooze button wasn't something that paused time and it had only delayed her trip to school. Lazily, she looked around the classroom. It seemed everyone was in their desks, their eyes all trained on the same spot in the room...

… looking at Hana.

"I say again, Miss Song," the voice repeated.

Picking her head off the cold wooden desk, Hana's brunette hair drooped over her eyelids. She tilted her head to the side, blowing a few strands away from her face as she stared her teacher down.

"What?" she said with an annoyed tone.

Her teacher was a burly man in his fifties. His grayish hair was balding already, and his trunk was round and stout. He wore a suit that had faded from its black sheen to an old charcoal since Hana had first met Mr. Halfred almost four years ago now. Looking back at the man, his cross expression definitely meant he wasn't pleased that she was snoozing through his class.

"Would you care to enlighten us with the answer?" Mr. Halfred asked, his arms folded across his chest.

Shifting her gaze, Hana could still see the entire class was staring at her. They were obviously expecting an answer to some question unbeknownst to her.

… _the fuck do you all want from me?_

"Forty-six," Hana said with a monotone, dropping her head back down onto the table.

A few giggles reverberated throughout the classroom as Mr. Halfred audibly huffed. Ricky's shit-eating grin widened even further as the little bastard snickered.

"No, Miss Song. The current forces assisting in the development of urban housing for those affected by the Omnic Crisis is _not_ 'forty-six'," Halfred said with distaste. With his arms behind his back, he turned to face the rest of the classroom. "Would anyone care to provide the _correct_ answer?"

There was silence for a few moments. Just as Hana was about to mutter something about what a stupid topic they were learning about, she spotted out of the corner of her eye that someone had raised their hand.

"Ahh, Miss Ziegler. Please, do enlighten us," Mr. Halfred spoke, his tone shifted to that of revered respect.

The sound of Angela Ziegler's name caused Hana to straighten. She squinted her eyes, spying that the prissy blonde had stood up from her desk.

"Vishkar Corporation, sir. Currently, they are contracted with developing large tracts in Rio de Janeiro with hard-light technology following recent omnic assaults," Angela said, using that all-knowing brain of hers.

"Very good, Miss Ziegler!" Mr. Halfred exclaimed. Angela sat back down as Mr. Halfred turned back to Hana - who was just wearing a face of pure boredom. "You'd do much to pay attention in class and learn from exemplary students such as Miss Ziegler."

Upon hearing his words, Hana's eyes darted to Angela's. The blonde shifted uncomfortably in her seat, most likely due to the hard, dagger-like grimace she was getting.

Angela Ziegler.

If you walked around the school halls asking who the school's poster child was, their responses would all be the same.

_Angela motherfuckin' Ziegler._

A perfect academic record, president of the student council, and the wanted prize for every student of the school with a shaft between their legs. She had transferred over from some rich school in Zürich a couple of years ago, never telling anyone why. Just a couple weeks ago there was some big fuss about the fact that Angela was chosen to attend Overwatch's Academy for the Gifted and Talented - a scholarship to their internationally-accredited nuclear medicine program which only took in one student per year. There was news about it all over town with news stations bringing reporters out to interview the girl along with social media blowing the whole thing out of proportion. On that night, Hana had to mute her stream's chat from all the spam about it. All her libido-driven viewers must've seen Angela's face on the news.

So she got accepted into some school. Who gives a flying fuck?

Looking into the girl's sea-blue eyes, Hana couldn't spot a single flaw about her. She was a genius, sociable, and god damn pretty - even Hana had to admit that.

_You think you're so perfect…_

It disgusted Hana.

Nobody was perfect.

Nobody.

Everyone had their own blemishes and deficiencies. Some were just better at hiding it than others.

The ringing of the class bell broke Hana's thoughts. Her head pulsed with a throbbing headache as she came to grips with how little sleep she'd actually received. Stumbling out of her seat, she made her way towards the classroom's exit.

"All right class," Mr. Halfred said, waving his hand in dismissal. "Remember to go over next week's nanobiology chapters, and don't forget to sign-up for next week's field trip. I won't have any of you skipping it because there's a large amount of examinable material over Nepal's history."

The whole class groaned as they got out of their seats, trudging their way towards the exit. Pulling her light pink hoodie over her head, Hana followed her classmates. As she passed Mr. Halfred's desk, she shared a passing glance with Angela, the latter's expression was neutral and completely unreadable.

'What are _you_ looking at?' was what Hana wanted to say. Before she could say anything, however, the blonde had swiftly turned and walked out with her little entourage of followers trailing behind.

_Sheeple. The whole lot of them..._

Ricky sneered at Hana, bringing two fingers up to his mouth and stuck his tongue out between them before he left the room. Hana twisted her face in disgust. She was tempted to just clip the side of the kid's jaw just for the hell of it. Heck, she wouldn't mind a couple days of suspension in exchange for busting Ricky's face in. A tempting proposition... but if she were to miss any more classes, chances were her grades would drop low enough to warrant another suspension - or an expulsion.

"Miss Song."

Mr. Halfred's voice brought Hana's footsteps to a halt. She rolled her eyes before turning to face the brute of a man.

"May I have a word with you?" he asked.

Looking behind, Hana saw all her classmates had left. "Do I have a choice?" she scoffed, raising her hands in the air.

"You do, but I wish to speak about something that concerns your future," Mr. Halfred said, taking a seat on his brown leather stool.

"My… future?" Hana asked, a brow quirked.

"Yes. You may not think it, but I am actually a teacher and give somewhat of a damn about all my pupils' education."

Mr. Halfred's mild cursing didn't surprise Hana one bit. She'd been lectured by the older man more than enough to know that he tended to converse more casually under a more classless atmosphere.

"The principal and I have been discussing some things… and we've noticed your deterioration as of late."

"Deterioration? What the… what the hell are you on about?"

"You've been coming late to class much too often, and your grades for every class have stooped below the acceptable average. Not to mention, don't think I don't notice how tired you are all the time," Mr. Halfred sighed. He loosened his shoulders and brought his tone down to almost a whisper. "At this rate, we're unsure if you'll even be able to graduate."

The air in Hana's chest died. She clenched her fists as an anger rose within her. An anger directed not at Mr. Halfred nor the principal, but at herself. She knew it was coming. She knew funneling countless hours into her digital persona would catch up with her sooner or later. It was just that she hoped it wouldn't happen in her last semester of high school when her whole future rested on a series of exams.

"Are you saying I'll have to repeat a year?" Hana said quietly.

"Like I said, at this rate, yes. That's what you're going to have to do." Picking his chin up and adjusting his classes, Mr. Halfred gave a solemn smile. "But, it's still feasible for you to complete your studies this year."

Her breath returned to her as Hana breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, because I'm not staying in this hellhole another year. What do I have to do?"

Ignoring the name she'd given to Salesian Academy, Mr. Halfred continued on. "It's simple to be quite honest. You just have to pledge your full support into what I have in mind. What do you say? Are you willing to do what it takes to graduate?"

_What are you thinking you old codger…_

"Depends," Hana said. "If you expect me to stay back and do a bunch of extra credit work every day, however, I'd rather repeat the year."

Mr. Halfred let out a chuckle. "No, no. Believe me when I say I wouldn't enjoy that particular venture either. I have something else in mind. Something more professional."

"What?"

The man cleared his throat. "As you may know, there are some students in the cohort that are performing extremely well. Some are doing so well that they already understand material that I haven't even begun to teach. That's why some of these people have begun to help other students after class, and outside of school."

_Oh no. I think I know where this is going._

"If you'd be willing," Mr. Halfred continued, "There's someone like that in our class that may be able to-"

"Nope," Hana said. She did a pirouette and headed straight to the open classroom door. She knew exactly who Mr. Halfred was going to suggest.

"Wait, Miss Song, I haven't even-"

"I know _who_ and _what_ you're going to suggest," she said without stopping in her tracks. "If you think I'm going to be _her_ student… you can shove those chalk sticks right up your-"

"Please understand, Miss Song. There're only a few months before the final exa-"

Before Mr. Halfred could finish, however, Hana had already slammed the door behind her. The loud cracking sound the door made filled the hallway and got a few looks from students walking to their next class. She stood idly outside the classroom door as she tried to process what Mr. Halfred was about to suggest.

There was no way.

No way was she going to be stuck with that prudish, strait-laced blonde just so Hana could pass a few classes. They'd already had their grievances in the past. She recalled last week when the pair were put together for chemistry by Mr. Halfred - and now Hana had an idea why - and it didn't bode well. Hana didn't say a word whilst Angela worked. Angela did say the odd sentence and asked the occasional question. Of course, Hana didn't reply. Internally, she was planning what league she would participate in for that night's stream. Calculating titration ratios and paying attention to a certain blonde were the least of her priorities.

A puff of air left Hana's nose. She twisted on her feet as she walked down the corridor, putting the conversation with Mr. Halfred out of her mind.

* * *

There was a crisp breeze blowing when Hana laid down on the grass. The gentle prickling of green blades against Hana's skin relaxed her. Few people knew of the patch of lawn behind the main library, and few dared to walk across it when Hana occupied the small hill under the campus' cherry blossom tree. The shade brought much-needed rest to Hana's eyes as she closed them, hoping to recuperate the sleep she had surrendered last night. If she had to miss physics class in order to catch a little shut-eye, then she would.

Her nap was short-lived, however, when she heard a trio of footsteps coming towards her. ' _Fuck, what does it take to get some peace?'_ Hana thought. She hated when people didn't respect the fact that this was her area. The sound of grass crunching and creasing beneath heavy footfalls, however, didn't stop. It grew in volume and stopped only when they were a few inches from Hana's head. She felt a shadow loom over her, awaiting some sort of response from her.

_Who the fuck?_

Opening her eyes, Hana was met with Ricky's freckle-ridden face, only inches away from her own.

Immediately, she brought her hands to her sides to push herself away from the sordid boy, her feet kicking up the freshly-cut grass in the process. She glared at the boy who was still wearing the grin from class only hours before. He was accompanied by two of his friends, both equally as sleazy as their leader.

"What the hell do you want?" Hana asked, clearly pissed off.

Looking to his companions, Ricky let out a sneer. "Just out for a walk, sweetie. It just so happened that we bumped into you back here."

"Yeah, right. You're probably looking for another poor girl to prey on, you sack of shit," Hana said, standing up.

When she stood face-to-face with Ricky, Hana realized just how much shorter she was compared to the boy - plus, she was standing on an incline. He must've been a full head-length taller and had twice that of Hana's mass.

"Woah, easy there. That's not how people talk to their future boyfriend."

"Boyfriend!?" Hana exclaimed, almost choking on the bitterness of the word. "Fuck off. You're just a pervert creep. Go bark up another tree like a good dog now, would you?"

Ricky's companions let loose a small laugh. Their leader, however, was far from amused. "Hey, at least I've got a dog and my parents at home. What do you go home to? Oh yeah, that's right. Nothing - because your dumb parents are off fighting toasters and rice cookers. Hell, from the news, I bet they're already dea-"

Ricky wasn't able to finish his sentence as Hana's fist hooked the side of his mouth. The force of the blow threw him off balance, bringing him down to a knee as both his friends looked on, each open-mouthed with shock.

Her knuckles ached from the amount of effort she had put into the swing as Hana retracted her arm. Her fingers spasmed, eager for a follow-up to their initial strike. Her breath was heavy, rapid and brimming with wrath. The mention of her mother and father had tipped her over the edge, unable to hold back from forcibly shutting Ricky up.

Getting up slowly, Ricky brought a hand to his mouth, rubbing where he had just been struck. He turned his head to spit onto the grass before looking Hana in the eyes. The haughtiness within them had disappeared.

"How did that feel?" Hana asked, hoping to provoke a response. "Bet that hurt, you little-"

Hana saw it coming, but it still caught her off guard. Ricky's fist cut through the air and made contact with Hana's jaw with the force of a rogue freight train. Her breath left her instantly as she doubled over, knees buckling from the blow. Her ears rung as it sounded as if thunder had struck the ground only a few feet away from her. The feeling of her legs eluded Hana as she brought a hand to her lips. Bringing it in front of her face, she felt the warm trickle of blood dripping down her fingertips. Ricky was twice her size and double her weight. It was no surprise his blow was more devastating than Hana's.

"Yeah, it felt pretty good," Ricky said with a smug grin. "How was yours?"

Getting back on her feet, Hana cocked her arm back, milliseconds away from bringing another fist down on the boy in front of her. However, she stopped when a voice rose up from behind her.

"Stop!" it yelled. It was feminine.

Turning around, Hana went wide-eyed with who she saw.

Angela Ziegler. She walked over to the commotion, a frown written across her face. "Stop. Continuing this fight won't solve anything."

_Duh - I know it won't. I just want an excuse to punch this kid's face._

Hana's arm was still raised, despite Angela's plea. It was only when Angela's face turned from that of disappointment to worry did something turn over in Hana. Angela's eyes were pleading with her. Sighing, Hana put her arm down to her side, her hand still dripping with her blood, staining the grassy knoll a dark red hue.

"Ricky Astwell. If you don't wish for your mother to hear about this incident, then I suggest you leave," Angela said. Her voice was full of authority. Angela was well-known even throughout the adult community. Her age was no barrier to her respected figure.

Not budging from his place, Ricky wanted to retort. His friends, however, were shuffling away awkwardly, forcing Ricky to follow. He shared one last look with Hana that just spat 'this isn't over'.

As Hana watched the trio leave, the adrenaline that dulled the pain of Ricky's punch had subsided. Hana winced, feeling as if her lip was being stung with a million needles as she brought her hand up to her mouth again. As she gently touched her cut skin, another arm had reached out and grabbed hers.

"Here, let me see that," Angela said, pulling Hana's hand away from her mouth. Angela examined Hana with a keen eye, her gaze on Hana's mouth and looking to avoid any eye contact whatsoever. Angela wrapped her hand in her white school sleeve, bringing it to Hana's lip for a closer look. Red soaked into the sleeve's linen material as Hana winced at the touch. "It's a superficial cut - it'll heal but you'll need ointment," Angela said after a while. "Are you okay?"

The girl's question caught Hana by surprise. She had done nothing but pay no attention to Angela since she'd transferred here. Yet, here she was - being treated by the person she'd never uttered a word to.

"I'm fine," Hana said. Her voice was weak and higher-pitched than usual as her breath began to slowly return.

In actuality, she wasn't fine. Her mouth stung. It hurt. But she wouldn't say it. She wouldn't admit her weakness in front of Angela. She didn't know why, but she just couldn't. Her ego wouldn't allow it. Pushing Angela's arm away from her, Hana started walking back to the main campus. She hadn't noticed, but Angela's eyes had gone wide with realization.

"That voice…" Angela said in a low voice.

Horror gripped Hana as she realized what she had just said.

She'd spoken her first words to this girl…

… and she'd done it in her persona's voice.

Panic took hold as Hana's slow strides had changed into a jog. She had to get away from this girl as fast as she could.

"Wait!" Angela called. "You still need treatment, the medical wing is that way!"

Hana didn't bother to turn around. She had to get away from that pretty, prissy, prim blonde as fast as she could - and it wasn't because she'd been shown a kindness that she had long since forgotten the feeling of, but because she didn't want to stay and find out; find out if she had slipped up.

With an overwhelming curiosity, Hana did steal a glance behind her once as she ran ahead. All she saw was Angela, standing under the shade of the cherry blossom, her eyes filled with something that only made Hana pick up her pace.


	2. Suspicion

**_I don't own Overwatch._ **

 

'Why no voice today!?'

'Unmute mic, D•Va!'

'No cam. No mic. D•Va is a robot, confirmed.'

The soft whirring of her computer's fans did little to drown out Hana's thoughts. Not thoughts about her stream's chat. She'd stopped caring about what a bunch of weebs and trolls thought a long time ago. Her thoughts were focused more on a specific classmate of hers, and whether or not she really did give her identity the slip. Having been streaming as the online image of D•Va for the past year, Hana never once had anyone come up to her and question if she was the facade's owner. Then again, no one suspected a dismal, anti-social student to be behind the vivacious character they all knew and loved as D•Va.

Hana liked it that way. She was never one for the spotlight and didn't care much for the fame. She preferred to remain unknown, and was sure it was going to stay that way.

That was until a couple of days ago when all that had been jeopardized. Hana had skipped school yesterday, not wanting any questions from her classmates or Mr. Halfred as to how she'd received the injury to her face.

The encounter with the student council president had Hana replaying the scene over and over again in her head. Her throw at Ricky, the blow he had landed on her, and Angela's intervention. Not a single hour went by without the whole sequence being relived in Hana's mind. Especially the part where Hana had turned around to see what looked almost like recognition in the other girl's irises.

_How would she even recognize my voice!?_

_Does she watch the stream?_

_I should've just kept punching that prick Ricky..._

Another twinge of pain made it's way to Hana's bottom lip. She instinctively brought a hand to the cut with a towel in hand. The previously white cloth had been soiled by small patches of red. For tonight's stream, she had her mic muted as she wasn't able to talk in an effeminate enough voice with a busted lip. Her viewership was less than usual, but it didn't matter. A couple of days later, when her lip had healed, D•Va would be back at the top of the charts.

The pain Hana felt in her face showed itself through her gameplay. Several comments had already been made in the stream's chat, jesting to the possibility that an impostor had taken over the channel due to Hana's lackluster performance. Every time Hana took her hand off the keyboard, her game got weaker. However, even though some games had been genuinely challenging tonight for Hana, she remained undefeated.

Just as it looked like Hana was about to take her sixth win with a hidden zergling army behind her opponent's base, she'd received a private message from one of her viewers. Sipping on her usual soda, Hana tabbed out absentmindedly to read it, rolling her eyes.

Usually, she'd brush it off as another filthy fantasy essay by another lonely kid from halfway across the world. But this time, when Hana opened it, her breath got caught in her throat as her eyes went wide. The message only had one word. A one worded question that read:

'Hana?'

Soda made its way into Hana's lungs as she went into a coughing fit. Her headset fell from her head as her hands came off the mouse and keyboard. She struggled to breath as she batted at her chest with a fist. A couple moments of coughing and wheezing later, her breathing calmed back down as she looked back to the screen. The message sender's username was listed as anonymous.

_Who the hell…!?_

Did she accidentally stream her desktop? Something that would show her name? Surely not; she had too many safeguards for that. Had someone hacked her computer using her stream IP? No, she had her connection routed through both a proxy and a VPN. Besides, there was no way any of her viewers would have the brainpower to get through those.

So how the _hell_ could one of her viewers know her name?

_A lucky guess? No fucking way. I have to…- Oh shit!_

A momentary lapse of concentration was all it took, however, as Hana scrambled back to her computer. She tabbed back into her game as she saw half her Zergling army had been wiped out by an unscouted Protoss flank with no contestation from her side. Not bothering with the pain that had returned to her mouth, Hana entered full try-hard mode. She slipped her headset back on as her fingers raced across the keyboard, her mouse movements became a total blur.

'Holy shit, look at her go!'

'PogChamp. PogChamp. PogChamp.'

'Is this an actual robot playing?'

She ignored the stream chat. A cacophony of clicking and keystrokes reverberated throughout Hana's apartment as she struggled to salvage the game's situation.

But it was too late.

With the blow Hana's troops had received, the game was over. No amount of APM would help her reclaim this match.

It would be her first loss in over a year.

Slumping into the back of her chair, Hana could only watch on with still eyes as her Zerg drones got picked off, one by one. Her small contingent of mutalisks was no match for the size of her opponent's army.

She couldn't wait to see her social media feed tomorrow. Her stream chat was already scrolling too fast for her eyes to follow - not that she wanted to see what her mindless, brainless, dimwitted viewers had to say about her loss anyway.

At first, Hana felt nothing. It was as if there was a void in her chest where her heart was supposed to be. Her fingers dug into the armrests of her chair as something sparked within her. Furrowing her brow, Hana exploded out of her chair and dove under the table. She grasped the computer's power plug, pulling it out with one swift motion. The soft whirring sound of the computer that existed only moments ago came to a sudden halt. The room became noticeably dimmer as well as the monitor lost its digital input. It was a messy method to turn off her stream, but Hana didn't want to have anything to do with her viewers right now.

Turning over and collapsing onto the soft carpet underneath her desk, Hana looked up at the bottom of her desk. A hard rush of air left her nose as she grimaced at herself for the game she had just lost. The veins in her neck throbbed as she lowered her brows. Gritting her teeth, a sudden urge took over her as she clenched a fist, sending it flying at the bottom of her desk as hard as her small frame would allow.

"Fuck!" she shouted as her hand made contact.

A sharp pain shot down through her arm. She'd thrown the punch at solid oak. Her cursing would've been loud enough to be heard from around the block. But Hana didn't care.

She sighed. Not only did her lip hurt, but now her fingers were likely bruised and going to swell. She brought her other hand to its aid, massaging her fingertips as she fought back a tear. The question still lingered on her mind.

_Who sent that freakin' message!?_

Her mind wandered, thinking of all the possible people who would have a clue as to her true identity. On the verge of giving up, Hana once again thought back to the scene at school those couple days ago.

Then - an epiphany.

A smile grew on Hana's lips. It led to a chuckle, a laugh, and then the whole apartment building must've been able to hear Hana as she couldn't withhold her howling. As she settled, she clenched her teeth, letting herself a little smug smile.

_How am I so fucking dumb?_

She had been replaying that scene behind the library over and over, but had only made the connection just then.

She realized there was only one person who could possibly know who she really was. Only one. Her lip ached once more as Hana breathed their name.

"Ziegler…"

* * *

As Hana slid the class door open, the entire room turned to face her.

She was late, as per the usual.

"Ah, Miss Song. How nice of you to join us," Mr. Halfred said, his hand paused on the chalkboard. "Please, have a seat. I apologize that my class can't fit into your _extraordinarily_ busy schedule."

_Whatever, you old fart._

Mr. Halfred's remark was met with a sour expression. After closing the door behind her, Hana donned her hoodie, sticking her hands into the jacket's pockets. She hoped no one would notice the bandages around her hand or the cut on her lip. She purposefully kept Angela's desk out of her peripheral as she trekked to her seat in the back corner of the class. Mr. Halfred snorted before continuing his lecture, something about nanobiological trauma.

The chair made a squeak as Hana slid it back, sitting down on it as she folded her arms across the desk, letting her head drop into the makeshift cushion. She'd again received a solid four hours of sleep. How long had it been since she'd actually gotten a night with more than six? Before she had started streaming, no doubt. No wonder Hana was as small as she was.

Just as Hana was about to doze off, there was the sudden tapping of a pencil on the desk next to her.

"Psst," the voice whispered from beside Hana.

She ignored it. Hana knew Ricky wanted to start something. His pride must've been hurt as he wouldn't have been able to let go of the fact that a girl had punched him. Nevertheless, her ignorance was met with another ushered whisper from Hana's side.

"Pssssst," the voice said again.

_Please, Ricky. Give me another excuse to knock in that skull of yours._

Rolling her eyes, Hana slouched onto her side to tell Ricky exactly what she thought of him and his battered ego. But her mouth had only made it halfway open before it got stuck.

Sitting in the desk beside Hana was Angela, her hands folded demurely over the top of her desk as she sat cross-legged in her school uniform. She was looking right at Hana, wearing a genuine smile as she raised a hand and waved it in an almost timid-like manner.

"Hello," Angela said in a low voice. "Are you okay? You didn't come to school yesterday."

With her mouth still agape, Hana looked on at the seat's occupant. Her eyes trailed off to Angela's usual seat at the front of the class and saw no one other than Ricky, leaning on his chair, as if nothing was wrong. Hana looked down, turning in the opposite direction to look out the window at the mid-morning sunshine, ignoring the student council president who was right beside her.

"I've spoken with Ricky Astwell. He won't be a bother to you anymore," Angela said.

_Wow, what did you do - suck him off?_

"For extra measure, I've asked Mr. Halfred for a new seating arrangement for the class. Thankfully, he agreed."

_Gee, judging by the rest of the class, the only thing you did was swap seats with that dickhead._

Hana turned back to the front of the class, feigning attention as to what Mr. Halfred was saying. She held a hand to the side of her face, blocking any chance of eye contact with Angela.

"Hana, please."

The girl's plea made Hana's ear jerk.

"I know you don't like me," she continued, "and even though I don't know why, I'm fine with that. I'm just here to help you with your studies."

_What if I don't want your stupid help?_

"I saw everything that happened yesterday. I heard what Ricky said about you… and your parents."

Hana pressed her lips together. Her hands clenched the sides of her desk.

"Personally, I think it's very noble of them; to be fighting for their homeland against the Omnics," Angela said. The tone of her voice became sympathetic, caring even.

_I don't give a shit what you think._

"I know what it's like," she continued on. "To be alone. To have your parents doing what they believe is best, even if it means risking their lives."

_Oh, do you now? You think that makes us friends?_

It had been a couple years now since Hana's parents had left her to fend for herself. She remembered her days in freshman year. After school, her mother would always be there at the kitchen stove, a big smile on her face as she would serve up her homemade mandu dumplings. Her father would come home an hour later, exhausted from the endless military drills and procedure he had on for that day. Nevertheless, he would always take Hana up in his arms, embracing her in a fatherly hug that filled her with a familial warmth.

All that changed, however, when the God Programs had infected over a quarter of the Omnic population. Hana's father had been called to active duty in Russia. Her mother was drafted a few weeks later as part of the first response team. In the beginning, Hana would video call her parents every day, hoping to capture the love she felt when the trio were actually under the same roof. Living under those conditions would've been fine for her. But then, a few months later, all communications between personnel and the outside world was banned as Omnics began hijacking the transmission channels, gathering intelligence on their human opposition.

That was the last time Hana saw her parents.

Now, she didn't know if they were alive, missing, or dead.

That's why she felt dubious as to whether or not Angela truly understood her dilemma.

Mr. Halfred's voice echoed through the room, putting some much needed verbal distance between Hana and Angela. "I hope everyone remembers to hand in their forms. Tomorrow, we'll be visiting the Himalayan Monastery. "

_Jesus Christ. What a fucking snoozefest._

Visiting a place where people do nothing but meditate for days at a time was on the bottom of Hana's bucket list. She would've much rather visited Hanamura, Japan. At least over there they had that giant arcade - built by that flamboyant Shimada brother who had gone missing.

"Hana," Angela spoke. "There's something I have to ask. Something that may sound really... stupid."

_Oh boy. Is this what I think it is?_

"There's a popular video game streamer. She's Korean," Angela said, her tone tempered.

_Yep. It is._

"I'm sure you know who I'm talking about. The point is, I wanted to ask you..."

_Here it comes._

"Are you... D-"

The clamoring of the midday bell sounded throughout the classroom. Mr. Halfred placed his chalk on his desk as he waved his hand in dismissal. Chairs scraped along the hardwood floor as students were eager to escape from the second half of Mr. Halfred's coma-inducing lecture. Hana followed along, stepping out of her chair without speaking a word to the girl next to her. She didn't bother looking over her shoulder at Angela, mostly because Hana didn't want to see her mouth out the question she hadn't finished.

Hana walked up to the front of the classroom, stopping at Mr. Halfred's desk as she watched the other students funnel out of the class. Pursing her lips, Hana stared her teacher down.

"Is this your way of forcing her onto me?" she asked.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Miss Song," Mr. Halfred said, a half-grin spreading across his face.

"Don't play games with me. I already told you, I'm not getting a tutor. _Especially_ not her. So don't seat her right next to me thinking it's going to happen."

"I'm doing nothing of the sort."

"Bullshit."

"Alright - let's say that, hypothetically, I _am_ assigning you Miss Ziegler as your tutor, Miss Song. Don't you wish to graduate this year? Why wouldn't you want help from one of Salesian's brightest students?"

"Because," Hana said, "she pisses me off."

"That's unfortunate, because the arrangements have already been made."

"Arrangements?" Hana asked, taking a step back.

"Yes. The after-school tutoring program where tutors assist students in the comfort of their own home."

"You just said you weren't doing that!"

"Oh, did I? Slip of the tongue," Mr. Halfred said with a smirk. "Miss Song, you must understand. You'll need extraordinary results on these final exams in order to graduate this year. I'm simply assigning you the best help possible."

It was true. Hana had done the calculations herself and would need nothing short of a miracle for her to pass all her subjects. She needed help. Desperately.

"There is _no_ way I'm letting that prude tutor me," she went on.

"I'm sure you'll come around sooner or later," Mr. Halfred said, crinkling his nose and clearing his throat before looking down at the papers on his desk. He shot a quick glance over Hana's shoulder.

Turning around, Hana found Angela standing a few feet behind her. The girl's black ballet shoes hadn't made a sound against the wood flooring. Her face was somewhat contorted as she rubbed the nape of her neck with a hand. No doubt she'd heard Hana's little comment.

Turning back to Mr. Halfred, Hana said, "You two have got to learn how to leave people alone." With that, she twisted on her foot and walked out of the classroom. She heard Mr. Halfred sigh whilst the student council president didn't utter a single word.

Outside, Hana breathed a sigh of relief. She began walking down the school's main corridor, looking down and away from the other students, a thought troubling her mind. No doubt Angela would ask Hana again - ask if she really was the world's most famous streamer. Hana would have to improvise an answer. But what? Tell her that she's crazy? That she didn't even know who D _•_ Va was? That would've been a weak lie. Everyone knew D•Va.

After making it halfway down the corridor, a faint voice could be heard behind Hana.

"Wait, Hana," it said.

_Oh for the love of God._

A second later, Hana sensed a figure standing directly behind her. She didn't need to turn around to know exactly who it was. Closing her eyes, Hana let out a long exhale from her chest.

"What do you want?" she said, realizing she wasn't going to shake Angela off anytime soon.

"I want to talk," Angela murmured from behind Hana.

"Yeah, well - I don't."

"Please. It's something that's been on my mind since last night, since that incident behind the library."

"Then you're out of luck, princess. I'm not your damn therapist."

There was pause before Angela continued. "I need to know," she said.

"Know what?"

_That D•Va isn't the happy, vibrant person you thought she'd be?_

With no response, Hana tapped her fingers against her skirt pocket, growing impatient with the girl behind her. It was at that moment she felt a hand grab her arm. Its skin was cool to the touch. Turning around, Hana saw Angela pulling on her, pulling her towards one of the alcoves along the school's corridor, the ones students used for phone calls, hanging out, or making out. Hana wanted to protest, to ask what the hell Angela thought she was doing.

It was only when the pair were alone did Angela let go of Hana's arm, the latter looking at her captor with wide eyes. With her back up against the cold concrete wall, Hana looked the student council president up and down. Even though the two were the same age and height, Angela had already developed the more accentuated feminine traits. Her luscious gold hair was tied up in her usual ponytail, a single strand falling over the side of her temple. The sharp features of her face was a reflection of her entire body, and everything - from her curved figure to her perfectly arched brows - just screamed upper-class.

"What? What the hell do you want?" Hana said after a lengthy pause.

"Firstly," Angela began, "sorry for dragging you. I just don't want anyone to hear us."

Biting her lip, Hana already disliked where the conversation was headed.

"Secondly," Angela continued, "how are you feeling? Is your lip okay?"

The question took Hana by surprise. "I'm fine," Hana said, turning away.

"Good, because I was worried for you," Angela said. She started pacing back and forth around the alcove. She hesitated, however, when her eyes spotted Hana's bandaged hand. It looked like she was about to ask something about it but then discarded the thought, continuing her pacing. "You're going to think I'm crazy for asking you this."

"Don't worry, I already think you're a nut-job."

"Good, then I've got nothing to lose." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "That popular streamer I was talking about in class? Her name's D•Va."

Angela's eyes darted to Hana's, searching for some sort of a response. The latter, however, gave nothing away.

"Yeah, I know her," Hana said nonchalantly. "Pretty sure everyone does. World's best StarCraft player." She subconsciously put her hands on her hips, proud of the title she had given herself.

"That's because she's a very likable and mechanically skilled player. Up until yesterday, she'd never lost a match in over a year."

"Wow, you seem to know a lot about her. I didn't take you for a fan of video games."

"I'm not. My following of her is for… different reasons," Angela said. The way Angela said her last two words sent a chill down Hana's spine as she narrowed her eyes. "Like I was saying, she lost her first match last night. It's caused quite a stir across social media."

_You don't have to remind me. My feeds have been clogged this whole morning._

"Mhmm, pretty weird for her to lose," Hana replied, feigning interest.

"Yes, well, I think I know why she lost," Angela said, her tone became softer as her pacing came to a full stop. "I'm sure you're well aware that D•Va's kept her identity hidden ever since she started streaming."

_Very aware._

"During that game last night, I sent her a private message as one of her followers," Angela continued, "with what I thought her real name was."

…

_I fucking knew it was you._

"After sending it, she... stopped stopped playing in the middle of a game, which led to her loss," Angela went on, "so I can only assume that I guessed her name correctly and that she lost from the fact she realized someone knew her real name."

_Looks like those smarts do get you somewhere._

"So I wanted to ask..." Angela said. She held her breath for a moment, biting her lip as she finally outed the question Hana knew Angela had been holding in for the past couple days.

"Are _you_ D•Va?"

Time froze for Hana. She raised a single eyebrow with a slight close-lipped smile. It wasn't that she was surprised, but more so smug of the fact that Angela had the gall to just come out and ask the question. A few seconds went by which felt like minutes. Hana's shoulders started to tremor as she began snickering. Angela took a step back, confused to Hana's sudden titter.

Her chortle became laughter as Hana bowed over, holding her stomach with one hand and waving the other in front of Angela, struggling to contain her laughter. Students walking past gave Hana the stink-eye, befuddled as to why the school's delinquent would be laughing uncontrollably in front of their student council president. Regaining her breath, Hana brought a finger to her eye, wiping away an imaginary tear. She looked back to Angela whose expression was still as serious as it was before.

"Oh wait," Hana said, "you're serious."

"Yes, I am. Are you the streamer, or not?"

"Sorry to break it to you, but the answer's no."

Angela's face twisted into a frown. "What?"

"I said _no_."

"But… that can't be. I wrote 'Hana'. I heard your voice that day behind the library. You sounded _exactly_ like her. You lost that game because of my message."

"Going to have to pop your bubble here, but D•Va could've lost because of anything. How do you know her computer didn't catch fire or something? Plus, that might not have even been D•Va last night because the stream had no voice - it could've been anybody."

That was precisely what Hana was going to say to her followers. That someone had hacked her account, lost the game on purpose, all just to tarnish her reputation. They'd all believe her. After all, D•Va would never lie.

Angela fidgeted with her fingers, her breathing quickened as she tried to process what Hana had just said. "Yes… I suppose those are all possibilities."

"Yeah, so if that's all you wanted to ask," Hana said, pushing her way past Angela and stepping out of the alcove, "I've got other shit to do."

Hana, however, had nothing else to do. Hell, she didn't even have time to pack lunch today. She was just going to lie down on the lawn behind the library again. She just wanted to get as far away as possible from Angela and the particular conversation they were having. She prayed Angela didn't notice the bead of sweat that ran down the nape of her neck as she began to walk away.

"Wait," Angela called from behind.

_Ugh, what now?_

Looking over her shoulder, Hana glared at Angela. She had this sheepish look that had Hana questioning what the girl could possibly be thinking.

"About the tutoring," Angela said. "What time shall I arrive at yours?"


	3. Transgression

**_I don't own Overwatch._ **

 

Angela found herself standing under a row of trees. But not trees of the organic kind like she'd find at home in Switzerland: these were tall palms, and they were synthetic, like the trees at school, save for the singular cherry blossom behind the library. She was in the center of a great boulevard, and along the sides of it were rows of internet cafés and small stores, all open, all brightly lit from their neon signs, and all of them bustling with gamers and shoppers alike. The chilly evening was laden with the artificial aromas of manmade plants and with the odors of South Korea's cuisines, the latter of which made Angela's mouth tingle, eager to indulge in something with a little sugar. But time forbade any such pleasure.

Looking around herself, Angela could spot the sun setting, hiding behind a distant prospect of the city's skyscrapers. On the district before the skyscrapers was an urban jungle of apartment complexes, each with their own grove and parkland. Some of them were in dire need of refurbishing whilst others looked to be completely dilapidated. It didn't bother Angela, however. She'd seen shoddier living conditions in far worse places.

In Angela's hand was a sheet of paper with the address Halfred had given her - words were emboldened on the top of the paper that read: 'Salesian After School Tutoring'. It had taken half the evening, but after turning the corner along the boulevard, she finally arrived at her destination. Angela quirked a brow, slightly surprised at the condition of the building that stood before her. She expected something similar to the apartments along the horizon – run-down and dry - but instead was greeted with a clean low-rise residence. There was even a courtyard at the front that had a pine-white gazebo surrounded by a small moat. Hedges lined the front of the building, something Angela hadn't seen since her days at Lemania College back home.

Walking through the building's courtyard and up the dainty steps that adorned the front porch, Angela turned her attention to the letterboxes on the nearby wall. All of them looked regularly attended to, except one. In the bottom corner, it looked like a whole month's worth of junk mail had been stuffed into the small slot of one of the boxes. Pushing the letters aside to peek under them, Angela spotted the name engraved into the letterbox's flap.

_Hana Song. Apartment 7._

Nodding to herself and keeping the apartment number in mind, Angela headed inside the building. The lobby was simple with a few ferns, some seats here and there, and there was a middle-aged woman sitting behind the marble reception who had looked up when Angela walked in.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked. Plasticised nails could be heard clacking away obnoxiously on the keyboard in front of her.

"Yes, please," Angela said, "I'm looking for apartment seven." She lifted the scarf she wore around her neck to mask the lower features of her face.

The woman tilted her head, examining Angela for a few moments before asking, "Haven't I seen you somewhere before?"

"I don't believe so." Having been on the cover of over half the city's news feeds when she'd received the Overwatch Scholarship, Angela didn't find it surprising that people could recognize her. She preferred to ignore it since she didn't like people asking questions about her work or personal life. Dealing with a deranged stalker once was one time too many.

"Hmm… What'd you ask? Apartment seven?" the woman asked after a while.

"Yes. I'm just visiting a friend," Angela said with a smile.

Perhaps 'friend' wasn't the right word given the rocky start to Angela and Hana's communication over the past week. Besides, it was more of a business visit than a social one.

"You're a friend?" the woman said with a huff. "I'm surprised that girl up there even has any - especially one so polite as yourself." She parted her lips to reveal a row of stained teeth. "Down the hall to the elevator, second floor, third door on the right."

Performing a bow of thanks, Angela headed to the elevator. It took only a few minutes before she reached the second floor, walking down the corridor to find the third door on the right. Unlike the more modern apartments, the mahogany door she stood before lacked a Vishkar securi-cam. It didn't even have an eyehole.

_Talk about old-fashioned…_

Out of her pocket, Angela held the small recording device her superiors had given her. It was small enough to just fit in the palm of her hand. She hated the secrecy that shrouded what she was doing, but she knew there were no other alternatives at this point. They were running out of time.

After activating the bug and checking that it was recording, she buried it in her skirt pocket, clearing her throat before she raised a hand and tapped tentatively on the door. At first, there was no response. The entire corridor was eerily quiet as Angela waited patiently, finding herself confused as to why she was slightly anxious as to who she was going to meet. A minute passed by. She reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone to check the time.

_4:57PM._

She was early. But surely it didn't mean Hana had forgotten she was coming when they'd spoken only hours before. Their conversation was still fresh in Angela's mind. Had she not mentioned the fact that without her help, Hana would have to retake the entire year and possibly again after that, Hana had finally caved in, reluctantly agreeing to the tuition. Even though Hana portrayed herself as an introvert with a constant gray aura around her, Angela remained unconvinced that she wasn't the persona behind D•Va. It was too much of a coincidence that D•Va had lost that game the moment Angela had sent her message. She would just have to accept the fact that it wasn't definitive proof. That was partly why she was here now; to find cold proof.

With an overwhelming curiosity, Angela pressed her ear against the door's frame, listening for any signs of life from the other side. What she heard was a muddled mix of clicking and tapping, causing her to frown, puzzled as to what the sound was. Just as Angela was about to pull away from the door, she heard something else. It was someone's voice. Their words were too dim to make it to Angela's ear, but their tone was honeyed, musical almost. It didn't sound like Hana at all. It almost sounded like…

 _No. Now you're just latching onto anything._ _Keep it together girl._

Stepping back and bracing her hand, Angela knocked again, a little harder this time. Unable to hold herself back, Angela pushed her cheek up against the door again, her ears poised for any sounds of movement. Her patience was rewarded with the gentle patter of footsteps shuffling along carpet, its volume becoming louder as they neared the front door. She quickly resumed her previous stance.

Before Angela knew it, the door swung open, revealing the apartment's dweller who had a look of vexed irritation on their face.

"Who the fu-" Hana said, her voice stopped mid-way as she saw who her visitor was, her mouth hung half-open.

With a gentle smile, Angela waved her hand meekly. "Hello," she said with a soft voice. However, she found her shoulders tensing suddenly as she stared Hana up and down. She quickly realized what she was staring at and mustered enough willpower to look away, squeezing her eyes shut.

Hana was wearing only what looked like her sleepwear - a pair of shorts with a color like that of the insides of a peach, and a similarly-hued t-shirt that hung loosely from her shoulders. Her shorts were only long enough to reach midway down her thighs, giving her slender legs a slight luster under the corridor's dim halogen lighting. The shirt's cotton outlined her shapely figure as Angela desperately tried to keep her internal yelping to a minimum. Worst of all, the material was thin enough to be faintly translucent.

_Where are your clothes!?_

A thumping became apparent in Angela's chest as she jutted a finger out towards Hana in an attempt to bring the girl's attention to her attire. There was silence for a few moments as Angela kept her eyes shut, not daring to open them.

"What are you pointing at?" Hana asked, oblivious to the situation. There was quiet until Hana let out a casual "Oh."

The next thing Angela knew, there was a loud _crack_ that sounded throughout the corridor, the startling noise caused her eyes to open, seeing that Hana had slammed the door shut. Taking a breath, Angela made a pass through her hair with her fingers in an attempt to regain her composure. She berated herself for staring at Hana as a long as she did.

_Get a hold of yourself, Ziegler._

It felt as if minutes had passed when Hana opened the door again, and this time - thankfully - she was wearing that hoodie that Angela always saw her wearing at school. However, she was still wearing those shorts.

"Honestly I'm surprised you even showed up," Hana said, folding her arms as she leaned against the door's frame. "I thought a busy goody-goody like yourself wouldn't have the time for someone like _me_."

Angela had to catch herself before her eyes wandered off below a certain somebody's waistline again. "I would never brush off a student who wanted to learn," she said.

_She's still wearing those bandages on her hand..._

With a snort, Hana stepped to the side, performing a half-bow mockingly as she extended an arm. "Please come in, _your majesty_ ," she said with a smirk.

Disregarding the title she had been given, Angela uttered a word of thanks, walking past Hana and into the depths of her apartment. What she saw wasn't an apartment with a lounge, kitchen, and corridor like Angela would expect of one back home, but it was a room. And just that. Its dimensions couldn't have been larger than a normal double bedroom.

As Angela walked in further, she noticed the mountain of laundry piled high against the door. She let out a small cry as she freed her foot from what looked like Hana's unmentionables. There was a bed against the far corner, its sheets were piled high with empty chip packets, textbooks, and hollow soda cans. A desk beside the bed had crumbs and soda stains scattered across its surface, causing Angela to question how Hana managed to maintain her figure on such a diet. The most eye-catching thing, however, was the computer tower on top of Hana's desk, its glowing red fans visible from behind its matte grating. There was a background hum coming from the machine as Angela imagined the electricity that would be needed to run the thing alone. Any taller and she was sure the computer would snap the desk from its weight. Peering in through the window slit along the case's side, Angela could already identify the tech it held within its metal skeleton. It looked exactly like the kind of stuff she had seen in the Overwatch Academy's computer labs on orientation day.

… _How'd she get such tech?_

"I didn't steal that if that's what you're wondering," Hana said flatly, closing the front door and noticing Angela's eyeline.

"Hmm? Oh, no. I was just thinking that those are the sorts of computers people use for gaming…" - she casually flicked away a strand of hair - "and streaming." Her voice almost fell to a whisper at her last couple of words.

Hana rolled her eyes before dropping onto her bed and burying her face into the pillow. She said something, presumably directed at Angela, but her voice was too muffled for her to hear.

"What?" Angela asked.

Turning to her side, Hana's brow was furrowed as she said, "I said, do you honestly still think I'm D•Va?"

_Yes._

"I said nothing of the sort," Angela replied.

Angela couldn't shake the feeling. For the entire afternoon, she'd tried to convince herself that her suspicions were completely unjustified and needless, and that Hana was exactly who she said she was. But Angela's instinct said otherwise. The petite girl emitted something about her that felt much too synthetic, much too forced, rigid - and Angela was all too familiar with that feeling.

"You don't need to say it. I _know_ you think so." Hana stretched her arms in front of her which caused several of her joints to crack. A look of mild satisfaction formed on her face as she reached over her shoulder to grab a textbook, aiming it before throwing the heavy thing onto Angela's lap. "Well since you're here, might as well do what you said you would."

Relief came over Angela for the change of topic. She thumbed through the nanobiology textbook on her lap, her favorite subject. "You want to get started already?"

"Duh. The only reason you're here is because I don't want to stay another year in that hellhole. Nothing else."

"Oh… I thought that we could maybe..." Angela said hesitantly, "... get to know each other a little bit before getting into the books."

_Like, do you enjoy video games? StarCraft, in particular?_

"Hmm, let me think about that." Picking herself up and sitting on the edge of her bed, Hana tapped a finger against her chin playfully. "How about, _fuck no_?"

"Come on, Hana," Angela said, setting the textbook on the table before taking a seat on a nearby stool. She crossed her legs and folded her hands in front of her as she continued, "This'll be easier for the both of us if we get an insight into each other before studying."

_By insight, I mean I need to know if you lied to me. Are you who you say you are?_

Subconsciously, Angela's hand rubbed over her skirt pocket, feeling the lump of the recording bug as it continued to register every word the pair were saying.

"Easy? Did you just seriously say _easy_? Listen, you priss. _Anything_ to do with you would be the opposite of easy," Hana said.

"What if I let you ask the first question about me. Would you agree then?"

Eyeing the woman across from her carefully, Hana tilted her head, unsure of the game Angela was suggesting. "You basically want to play truth or dare, minus the dare."

Angela nodded, hoping her features didn't give away her true intentions. Considering her options for a second, Hana let loose a rueful smile.

"Hmph. Fine. As long as I can ask anything, right?" she asked to which Angela nodded again in response. "I'm down for that," Hana said, slumping back down onto her bed, a layer of dust materialized in the air as she did so. She continued to look at Angela with one eye open, the other closed in a wink. "So... how many guys have you slept with?"

In almost an instant, Angela's neck and face became flushed with a cherry red, her eyes darting away from contact with Hana's as she nearly choked on her own breath. "W-what!?" she said.

Entertained by Angela's little reaction, Hana turned her head to face her, pouting her lips slightly with a look of amusement. "Aww, did I embarrass Miss Pretty Princess?"

"No!" Angela lied, her face giving the fib away much too easily. "I mean… just a little. But it's not what you think! I've never actually…" - she looked back to Hana who had the widest grin imaginable - "... been in a relationship."

Hana's grin faded away. "Huh? Seriously?"

"Yes."

"You? _You_? Salesian's smart, pretty, goody-two-shoes hasn't had a boyfriend before?"

_She thinks I'm pretty…?_

"Mhmm," Angela said, nodding in affirmation.

And it was true. When she had moved from Switzerland, Angela was indeed at the top of every Salesian schoolboy's dating list. Her first day had been much too cluttered with guys offering left and right to show her around school or to drop her off at home. One of them even had the courage to study ahead of the class just so that he and Angela would have something different to talk about compared to the rest of his competition. But his advances were unrequited like the rest of the school's, and it wasn't because Angela disliked them, she had actually made plenty of friends from the opposite sex during her time at Salesian Academy - it was just that romance was on the back of her mind compared with other matters.

Plus, they weren't her type anyway.

"Heh, guess we're on the same level with something at least. Not that I would want one," Hana said. "How come you haven't gotten in with anyone yet?"

"I believe it's my turn to ask you a question," Angela said, turning back to face Hana, ignoring the prickly inquiry into Angela's love life.

Staring at Angela for a brief moment, Hana shrugged her shoulders before closing her eyes. "Shoot then."

Angela had only one question in mind, but she had received her answer to it only hours before. The issue was the answer's legitimacy. Nevertheless, she had to think of something else. Glancing around the room, Angela noticed a photo frame behind the hulking size of a monitor on the desk. She reached out to gently grab the frame, looking over the picture it held as she thumbed a layer of dust off of it.

She recognized the background as the city's mountain peaks during a snowy winter. In the foreground of the picture itself, Angela saw a girl that couldn't have been many years younger than herself. The girl wore Salesian's colors, the deep green of the uniform's scarf indicative of that fact as it contrasted sharply with the girl's brunette hair. But what Angela noticed most of all was the girl's face. With her arm held out in a peace sign, her eyes, lips, and spirit seemed to all be smiling at once at Angela, the wrinkles around the girl's eyes only accented that feeling. Standing beside her was a man and a woman, the former of which had a hand on the girl's head, his wide grin showed as if he was in the middle of a laugh as he ruffled the girl's hair. The woman had a much longer head of brown hair and looked much more serene compared the other two, a peaceful smile on her face as she looked into the camera with a tranquil expression.

Angela feared that she may have stumbled onto something much too personal, but her curiosity prevented her from putting the picture back. She quickly looked at Hana who was still laid back on the bed, unsuspecting of what she was looking at. Upon closer inspection, Angela noticed a tiny patch of writing in the upper left corner, and even though her Korean was a bit on the rusty side, she could still make out the words. It read, 'We'll miss you. Stay true to yourself and forever stay our beloved daughter, Hana.' There was even smaller writing below the main body which had one line that read, 'Your mother will make us more dumplings when we get back, so don't cry over it.'

Angela chuckled inwardly.

"You gonna ask something or what?" Hana said from the bed, unaware of the memento Angela was holding.

"What are your parents' names?" Angela said, almost pinching herself for asking the first thing that came to her head. A part of her thought Hana would berate her for asking such an invasive question, but when no insults came her way, she looked over at the girl lying on the bed. Behind Hana's apathetic face, Angela could see both sadness and longing, a longing for the fruits of a broken promise as the girl tightened her jaw.

"Dad's name is Ki-tae, and mum's is Jae-eun," Hana murmured. She sat up from the bed, staring at the wall across the bed. "I don't get why you'd ask that, though."

When Hana turned, she looked as if she was about to shed a forlorn tear. But that evaporated in an instant once she saw what Angela was holding. The sluggishness in Hana's face vanished completely. Her nostrils flared and her eyes flashed as she leaped out of the bed, causing a noisy clatter as empty soda cans tumbled onto the woolen carpet.

Before Angela knew what was happening, she felt the entire weight of Hana's body careen into hers as the photo frame came loose from her grasp _._ A throbbing pain shot through her entire body as she hit the floor with a _thud_ , her face contorting into a grimace as her breath had been knocked out of her from the impact. She felt Hana on top of her who was reaching over to grab the picture and quickly retreated back to her bedside. Holding a hand to her forehead and her other to upright torso, Angela adjusted herself to the dull hammering pain she felt coursing through the arm she had just landed on. Opening her eyes, she saw Hana, exasperated and breathing sharply as she clutched the photo frame to her chest.

"I-I'm sorry," Angela said. "I shouldn't have-"

"Yeah, you shouldn't have," Hana spat. She looked down at Angela with a sour look before she noticed something besides her, something that had fallen out of the girl's pocket when she had pushed her.

It was Angela's recording device.

Hana's eyes widened as she must have recognized what the device was. "Wait, are you… are you recording us!?" Hana shouted.

Sweeping the device up quickly, Angela shoved it back into her skirt pocket before standing up, straightening her blouse as she did so. "I can explain."

"You know what?" Hana said. "No. _No._ Fuck. You. I should've known. I should've known that you'd treat me like some sort of psych experiment - like a lab animal. Who put you up to this? That son of a bitch, Halfred?"

"No! I'd never treat you or anyone like that!"

"Don't lie to me - you stuck-up assholes are all the same," Hana said with a glare. "Why then? What possible reason could you have for wanting to record me?"

_I need proof. Proof that you're who I think you are._

Angela looked to the side, a dejected look about her as her mouth remained shut.

"That's what I thought," Hana said. She placed the photo back on the desk before turning back to Angela. "We're done here."

"But I-"

"I said _we're done_ ," Hana said again, this time with spite in her voice.

Angela wanted to protest, a tendon in her chest feeling pulled as she observed the damage she had done. But her head told her wiser as she listened to Hana's words, exhaling a long breath before heading back to the front door. She opened it, glancing over her shoulder briefly to see Hana with a finger tenderly touching the photo frame. With that, Angela stepped out of Hana's apartment, shutting the door with a soft _click._ Once she was outside, she dug her phone out of her skirt pocket, tapping on it a few times before bringing it up to her ear. It rang for a couple moments before there was finally a noise of pick-up.

"This better be good, Ziegler," the womanly voice on the other end said. Their voice was flat, thick with an Egyptian accent, much like their daughter's.

"I still don't know," Angela said.

There was a lengthy silence on the other side. For a second, Angela thought the call had been disconnected, but after a quick glance at her phone, it said her recipient was still on the line.

"She's the best lead on who we think it is," the voice said, breaking the quiet. "Did you find any proof in her dwellings?"

"No, nothing definitive." Angela could sense the person on the other end mull over the spoken fact, the tension almost palpable in the air.

_But I did manage to break any chance at a friendship…_

"We're running out of time," the voice said in a low tone. "We have to find her in order to move onto the next phase."

"I understand," Angela said with a sigh. "But what if we don't need _her_? I mean, we could possibly develop an infection-immune Omnic that could-"

"Out of the question. Tests and diagnostics already indicate we need someone human. Someone with the… capabilities."

"Yes but… does it have to be _her?_ Surely there are others who would have the same potential. What about the second-best player? Couldn't we find _them_?"

"Ziegler. What did you two do? Have you developed a soft spot for the girl?"

"What? No!" Angela exclaimed as a heat rushed to her cheeks.

"Good, then if we don't want to waste any more time, we have to know if _she's_ the real deal," the voice said. "There's enough casualties as it is, Ziegler. You know that. She's our best chance at stopping that."

Angela sighed in agreement. "Does that mean I'll be expecting a visit from you when we're in Nepal?" she asked.

"Given the circumstances, I don't think we have any options left."

"Okay… I understand. Should I tell her?"

"Of course not. She has to remain unaware. We don't want any complications during extraction."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very well. Do you have anything else to report?"

Pondering for a little while, a thought came to Angela's mind. "Yes, one more. Could you run a status check on two individuals?" Without waiting for a reply, Angela continued on, "Ki-tae Song and Jae-eun Song."

Angela knew what it was like, not knowing the fate of your parents when they've been away and out of contact for so long. This was the least she could do as some scrap of an apology to Hana.

"Angela…" the voice said. "I don't think that's…"

The mention of her first name by the other woman caused a lump to form in Angela's throat. "Please. It may help us in convincing her to join our cause," she said, gripping her phone a little harder.

An exhale of defeat could be heard from the other side. "Fine. I'll tell you what I can find. But after this, I'm calling it even with that favor I owe you."

"Thank you," Angela said with a small smile.

With that, the line went dead, and Angela slid her phone back into her pocket. After a quick glance around herself, she hurried away through the corridor, down the elevator, bid the middle-aged receptionist a swift farewell before she found herself standing on the boulevard again. As she walked down the sidewalk with a downcast expression, she muttered a hushed apology, her intended recipient being in the building she had only just left. Passing by one of the city's many trash incinerators along the footpath, Angela tossed the recording bug into the chute, hoping to also cast away some of the guilt that now plagued her. Unfortunately, it didn't work. The neon signs of the shops still illuminated the cold evening as she walked down the concrete sidewalk, reflecting on the conversation she just had on the phone.

Little did Angela know, however, when she'd left apartment seven, their resident had been seated on the floor with their back up against their front door, knees together. Their face was brooding as they contemplated the phone conversation that had taken place outside their door only moments ago.


	4. Lights Out

**_I don't own Overwatch._ **

 

_Fucking hell._

As Hana stepped off the bus, the freezing wind that chilled the skin on her face made her squint. Ice crystals glittered in the fur of her hood and the band of her rosy earmuffs as snow fell like dust onto her shoulders, arms, and back. She huddled against herself, hoping the warmth of her own body would be enough to fend off the petrifying air. The single cotton shirt under her black, cashmere turtleneck, however, was nowhere near enough to help stop her from shivering under Nepal's icy conditions. She glimpsed over her shoulder, teeth chattering as she saw the rest of the class depart from the bus. Most - if not all of them - were wearing skins and fur coats thicker than the diameter of Hana's forearm. She cursed herself for her own stupidity.

It wasn't her fault she didn't know that her phone was smart enough to switch between Fahrenheit and Celsius, depending on the country she was looking up.

"Stick together, class. Even though a blizzard hasn't been forecasted, it doesn't mean we can just go wandering off now," Mr. Halfred said, snow crunching under his rubber boots as he rounded up the students.

Hana followed the group, hoping that nobody would notice her thermal dilemma and that they'd be indoors soon. As snow continued to fall, melt, and build on her skin, she was finding it difficult to stop shivering and keep her jaw from tremoring from what felt like fifty times a second. Thankfully – or unthankfully - the group was forced to cluster together, as per Halfred's orders. Sheepskin and thick polyesters rubbed against Hana's arm, helping prevent her fingers from becoming bitten by the hoar frost. The scene looked like something right out of an Antarctic documentary.

_God, I feel like a freakin' penguin right now…_

As the group began to move, Hana looked around at the harsh, whitened landscape. Inches of snow was embedded on the rocky ridges of the mountain, and every footpath that ran upwards looked to be covered in a thin layer of black ice. Nepal was a testament to mother nature's sub-zero bitterness.

"It's a good thing I packed two coats, this wind would've killed me!" a girl said as they moved up the mountain.

' _Shut the fuck up,_ ' Hana thought, glaring in the student's direction. She pulled the fabric of her sweater closer to her skin, feeling a bit warmer as the tips of her fingers had almost frozen over completely. She breathed into her hands, a murky fog emerged from her mouth before she shoved her digits into her pant pockets. Her classmates spoke vividly with one another, each of them delighted with the experience of snow, something that was a rarity back in South Korea. Even that bastard Ricky seemed to be having a good time, shoving his friends around as they poured snow down each other's backsides and laughing at the ensuing spastic results. Everyone just wasn't able to shut up about the atypical weather.

_It's snow - literally just frozen rain. Chill the fuck out._

Everyone except one.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hana spotted blonde tufts of hair spilling out of none other than Angela's fur hood. The girl was staring off into the distance over the icy cliffside as her friends nearby fought for her attention. As if becoming aware of Hana's stare, Angela turned her head, glancing at Hana for the briefest of moments, an unreadable look in her eyes before she delved into conversation with her cortège, completely ignoring Hana. It was obvious that she was avoiding her. The two hadn't spoken since the day at Hana's apartment when Hana had been so rudely interrupted a couple hours into her stream.

The day had been normal, Hana having completely forgotten she was being tutored by Angela in the turns of the early afternoon. Muting her stream for a couple minutes didn't damage her ratings, but some other part of her had been hurt upon discovering Angela's scheme. Was she really that desperate to out her as the world's foremost streamer? What was her end game? What was she trying to achieve?

_And what the hell was that phone call?_

Quality sleep evaded Hana last night as she tossed and turned, her head pounded with thoughts of what she had heard when Angela had left her apartment. Hana wasn't one to eavesdrop, but she had a gut feeling and a sharpened instinct when she'd discovered the recording bug Angela had dropped. Questions flooded her head, along with another sentiment. It was a dark, woeful feeling, something that she could feel in her stomach and her chest - almost like fear.

Who was she talking to?

What did they want with Hana?

Why would Angela go to _such_ lengths just to prove that Hana was D•Va?

As Hana and the rest of the group trekked through the thickened tundra, she wrestled with such questions. She was too engrossed in them to notice the hand that had reached out, grabbing her by the arm with a grip that made her wince. Turning, she looked into the freckled face and scruffy ginger hair that belonged to Ricky Astwell.

"Looks like someone didn't pack enough for the snow," Ricky sneered, looking Hana up and down with a smile playing on his lips. "You know, I could give you a real reason to wear that ugly turtleneck."

With a flick of her wrist, Hana yanked her arm free of Ricky's grasp, shuddering at his words. "I'd rather not," she said with disdain in her voice.

"Come on. You're wearing like, what, two layers? You're gonna freeze to death before we even make it up this stupid mountain. At least lend me that bod of yours while it's still warm at least."

An urge to heave up the contents of her breakfast suddenly came to Hana, but she managed to keep it down as she swallowed forcefully, looking the boy in the eyes with her own, an inferno within them. "You wanna taste my fist again?" she asked, clenching her hand so hard she cracked several knuckles.

Ricky chuckled and looked to his comrades before replying, "I'd rather taste a _different_ part of you," he said with a sordid grin, licking his lips.

With a repulsed groan, Hana slowed her pace, putting as much distance as she could from Ricky and his shit-eating friends who cackled together in sinister laughter. Soon she found herself at the back of the class, trudging through the sunken footsteps of her fellow students in the fresh snow. The cold had really begun to sting, her lashes having almost frosted over, and her lip still ached from before. Hana really thought she might not be able to make it to the monastery at the mountaintop before she froze into an ice cube.

_Yeah, this place is soooo much better than Hanamura._

Irritated, Hana was unsure how Nepal even received the winning vote in the class. She was sure most of the other students would have also preferred the intricate food, video games, and weather that was Hanamura. How this barren, frigid wasteland got chosen was beyond Hana. Swearing at the bitter cold again, Hana felt an arm brush up against hers. For a moment, she thought it was Ricky again, ready to spew up another bout of testosterone-driven dribble. However, instead of the boy's acrylic sleeve, she saw white pelted fur, a color that was almost camouflaged against the backdrop of the gentle snowfall. Glancing up at the coat's owner, Hana's breath got stuck in her throat.

"Hey," Angela said, gently nudging Hana again with her arm again. "You're cold... aren't you?" She looked at Hana with genuine concern deep in her blue-tinted eyes.

Hana couldn't have turned away faster if she had tried. Brushing off the other girl's arm, she kept her mouth closed, indignant to Angela's question. She had to choose her words carefully. Angela already knew too much. Social media and Hana's stream news already stated that Hana was going to be away for a couple of days - the same duration as the class' stay in Nepal. Would Angela believe in such a remarkable coincidence? Probably not.

_Leave me alone._

At this point, Hana was just pleading for Angela to move back to her clique, wanting to avoid the confrontation that was the reveal of her true identity. However, when Hana felt the warmth of a thick, linen scarf fall around her shoulders, she stiffened. The softness of the threads hugged the nape of her neck, immediately bringing a sense of snugness.

"Here, take this," Angela said with a thin smile. She reappeared beside Hana, walking silently alongside her and seemingly happy with the fact that Hana had taken her charity. "I know you're mad with me about yesterday, but I was telling the truth when I said I can explain what I did."

Twirling the scarf around her neck, Hana said nothing, continuing to walk through the snow with an unreadable look.

"It's just that…" Angela continued, "I can't tell you, but you have to _trust_ me."

_What the hell is that supposed to mean?_

Angela's phone conversation outside Hana's apartment still irked her. She had said something about _needing_ Hana, something about a meeting happening in Nepal, and - this troubled Hana the most - something about a… _status check_ on Hana's parents? The girl walking beside Hana wasn't all she was cracked up to be. Angela: student council president, honor student, pretty-faced know-it-all… and something _else._ If that was true, then Angela and Hana would have more in common than she had originally thought; both living with a disparate exterior, although Hana's was probably much more worn.

"I know that's a lot to ask given what I did," Angela said. She fiddled with her fluffy oilskin gloves, her eyes, downcast, as if ashamed.

_You bet your ass that's a lot to ask._

Remaining silent, Hana broke away from Angela, leaving her behind. For a fraction of a second, Hana swore she saw Angela raise a hand as if asking for Hana to wait. But when she heard nothing, Hana continued forward.

Sticking to the side of the group as far as away as possible from both Ricky and Angela, Hana gripped the scarf around her neck, chastising herself for the amount of heat it gave. Her shivering had come to a stop and her fingers had stopped tremoring. Maybe it was because of the body heat the scarf withheld from its previous owner, or maybe it was because of the blood that was pooling in Hana's cheeks that made her feel so much warmer.

* * *

"As you can see, the walls here were pressure-formed over centuries," Mr. Halfred said, running a hand along the patterned granite along the monastery hall's interior.

Half the class nodded whilst the other half showed very little interest, Hana being part of the second. The only thing she cared about at the moment was the heating inside the monastery. Whilst the other students had to carry their heavy overcoats, all Hana had to do was shove a scarf into her pant pocket. She didn't want anybody questioning her as to how she got the student council president's garment.

Leading the class further into the high-ceiling hall, Halfred spoke occasionally, explaining the history behind the formation of the Sanctum of Nepal, each piece of information having the possibility of coming up on the end-of-year exam.

Hana, however, didn't give a shit.

"I think that's enough of me reciting from your textbook," Halfred said, coming to a stop in the middle of the hall. "Feel free to explore the grounds. We'll resume the tour in a few minutes, but _please_ try to behave yourselves," he said, his gaze falling on the delinquent students, which included Hana.

_Thank God._

Choosing between listening to another hour of ancient history from Halfred's monotonous droning or freezing to death outside the monastery's walls, Hana was scared at what a difficult decision it was to make. The class disbanded with the more popular students heading down the west wing - their gossiping louder than seagulls - and the rest of the students wandered around, taking in the sights and smells of thousand-year-old stone. Hana, bored out of her mind, leaned up against one of the hall's tall pillars, dug out her phone, and scrolled through her feed. There was disappointment coming from a plethora of her fans, displeased with the little hiatus D•Va was taking. Hana felt slight relief, however, for being able to step back from streaming and just be herself for a while, even if it meant almost freezing her butt off.

Too absorbed in her phone, Hana didn't even notice Halfred walk up beside her.

"Miss Song, may I have a word in private?" Mr. Halfred asked. His tone made it sound like more of an order than a request.

Exhaling an exasperated breath, Hana shoved her phone into her pocket before begrudgingly following Mr. Halfred down the east wing, away from most of the other students. As they walked, their footsteps echoed down the long hallway.

"I'm glad you decided to come along on this excursion," Mr. Halfred said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, because I knew if I didn't, I'd have to deal with _you_ telling me how I need to put more effort into the course," Hana replied curtly.

A puff of air left Halfred's nose that sounded almost like laughter. "That's true. Like I said before, I'm your teacher and I actually do want to see you graduate, Miss Song, despite how much you may loathe me."

"Heh, at least you know where we stand."

There was another moment of quiet before Halfred continued, "Forgive me if this is an intrusive question, but why did you not bring a thicker set of apparel? I noticed you didn't have a winter jacket when we departed Salesian Academy."

"I…" Hana began, struggling to come up with a reason to hide her dopiness, "I've got a good metabolism, so I don't really need a lot of clothes," she lied. Her metabolism was beyond laughable.

"Hmm? Is that so? Then why is it that I saw Miss Ziegler comforting you when you looked a bit chilly back down on the mountain climb?"

Hana straightened up, a certain gait coming to her step as she realized what Mr. Halfred had just said. "You saw that!?" she shouted in a subdued voice.

"Of course. I have to keep an eye on all my students, especially in _this_ kind of weather. Isn't that Miss Ziegler's scarf in your pocket right there?" Halfred asked, pointing to the small bulge in Hana's hip pocket.

"This isn't…" Hana began, palming her pocket in an effort to flatten the scarf to a more concealed appearance.

Halfred chuckled. "Awfully kind of Miss Ziegler. On a similar topic, it's good to hear that your first session with her was well taken."

"What?"

"Your first tutoring lesson with her. She did come by to your address, correct?"

"Well… yeah," Hana said, shrugging a shoulder in confusion.

"I must admit; I did put her up to the task of taking you on as a student."

"Wow, really? I never would've guessed," Hana said, rolling her eyes.

"Spare me the sarcasm, Miss Song. I'm glad to hear that you were a tolerable student towards Ziegler, apparently you were more behaved compared to my class," Halfred said with a little grin. "She even says you two were able to cover a good portion of the course material."

"Wait. She said those things?" Hana asked.

"Yes, we had a chat before boarding the bus. Why? Is something the matter?"

_She lied for me?_

"No," Hana stated, her face blank.

"Well good then. Because I hope you two will continue working with each other when we return to the academy. To be quite frank, I think I'm getting too old to micro-manage students such as yourself," Halfred said, stopping to glance at his wristwatch. "I think it's time we continued the tour. You better don Miss Ziegler's scarf again because we'll be heading across the monastery garden, which has been known to be quite an open expanse."

As Hana watched Mr. Halfred walk back the way they came, she couldn't help but wonder. Why did Angela lie for her? She could have easily just told the truth to Halfred and said Hana had kicked her out, never having even put a pen to paper. It didn't make sense. Wasn't she jeopardizing her role as student council president by lying to her teacher?

With questions still racing through her head, Hana turned around and followed Halfred back to the other students who had already conglomerated with one another.

"Everyone ready?" Halfred asked, counting up the number of students with a finger. "Good. Let's continue."

As the group walked down the vast stone hall, they finally came upon a large archway exit. On the other side, Hana could barely make out the garden Halfred had mentioned. Instead, she could only see thick flakes falling from the sky, obscuring any chance of seeing the other side of the monastery.

"Snow is looking a bit heavy," Halfred said, his eyes looking out towards the garden. He turned to face the class, "We'll have to do what we did on the mountain climb and huddle up with one another. Don't lose sight of the person next to you, because visibility will be diminished."

Most of the students reluctantly agreed and tightened up against each other. Sighing, Hana pulled Angela's scarf out of her pocket and wrapped it around her lower jaw, prepared to brace the white rain alone. Folding her arms across her chest, she shook her head when a few of her classmates gestured for her to come near. She had no intention in partaking in another flock migration. However, she suddenly felt an arm hook under hers, linking them together as she was drawn to the group that had already begun walking through the tundra.

Looking up, Hana saw it was Angela, a bright smile on her face as she pulled on Hana, her eyes flicking to the scarf around Hana's neck and back to her face.

Feeling the pressure of the other girl's arm under her own, Hana was startled. "What the hell do think you're-"

"Let's go," Angela said, cutting off Hana's cry.

One part of Hana wanted to desperately release her arm and head back inside the monastery, but another wanted to stay linked with Angela, almost as if she were being tugged into the slight embrace.

' _Just want to stay warm is all,_ ' she told herself.

Colt grass shattered beneath Hana's feet, frozen from the blankets of ice. She inhaled the cool, crisp air that was the monastery's garden, along with an unusual vanilla odor that she could only assume was a perfume emanating from Angela. Apart from the occasional pink hue of patches of orchids and the sheen of frozen ponds, Mr. Halfred was right: there was no way anybody could see more than ten feet in front of them.

"Hana," Angela said, a hand above her eyes. "I have to tell you something."

A brief flashback to the phone conversation Angela had outside Hana's apartment whizzed through her head as her ears perked up, hoping that whatever Angela was going to say would provide some answers.

"This better not be some love confession," Hana said.

"No, this is something _serious_ ," was Angela's reply.

Taken a little off guard by the girl's cool-headed response to her quip, Hana's arm tightened unconsciously around Angela's. From the side, Hana could tell something was off about the girl. Instead of the usual calm, kind demeanor, she had a look of firm determination written across her face, a flare in her features along with a trifling hint of distress.

"What then?" Hana asked.

There was silence for a moment as the pair continued following the hollow footprints of the class in front of them.

"You have to listen to me..." Angela said, unease in her tone. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something bad happened right now."

… _What?_

"Woah, woah, what the heck are you on about?" Hana asked.

Angela sighed. She unhooked her arm and placed both her hands on Hana's shoulders, gripping them. Hard. The pair were now at a stop while the other students continued on ahead, the image of their backsides were a slow fading image as they treaded further into the snow.

"In a few seconds a blizzard's going to come over the far wall to the garden's west and cover the whole grounds of the monastery," Angela said.

"And how the hell would you know that?"

"I just _do_ , okay?" she said, desperation serrated into her voice. "Like I said back on the mountain, you have to trust me."

Stone-faced, Hana said nothing. Her pulse quickened and her blood warmed as she felt anger.

"When the blizzard comes, hopefully, the others can find shelter on the other side of the monastery before it hits too hard. You and I shouldn't take that risk, so I spotted a tree over to the east we could use as-"

"Hold up. Let me get this straight. You're saying a snowstorm is gonna hit us, right outta nowhere, and you want to split up with the group, all because I should trust you?"

Breathing steadily and relaxing her face, Angela nodded. "Yes."

Slowly, Hana clenched her hands. "No. You know what? Fuck it," she said, pushing Angela's arms off her shoulders. "I want answers, and you're gonna give them to me."

Stepping forward, Hana jabbed a finger into the other girl's sternum, causing her to stumble and fall backside first into the snow with a high-pitched yelp. Shaking the powder off her coat, Angela pushed herself up to a seated position, inches deep into the white powder.

"Hana, wait-"

"Who are you _really_? Why were you recording me when you came over? What the hell were you talking about on the phone after you left my room?" Hana asked, taking another step forward.

"You… you heard that?" Angela asked, surprise plastered on her face.

"Why do you want to know if I'm D•Va so badly?" Hana continued, ignoring Angela's surprise. "Who's this person you're meeting in Nepal? … And what the hell do you want to know about my parents!?" Hana squeezed her eyes shut, turning away at the thought of her last question.

For a moment, Hana could only feel soft crystals melting on her skin along with the pricking of the cold wind against her eyelids. She didn't care that the two were split from the group now, their footsteps having been covered by the snowfall already. All she wanted was answers. Answers to the questions that had been plaguing her head for every hour of the day.

Finding herself panting, Hana's heart pounded in her ears as she stared down the girl lying in the snow. Her shoulders heaved up and down as she began to shiver, which was unusual since she wasn't doing so only moments ago. Sweat that had formed on Hana's forehead crystallized instantly, and the wind had died down all of a sudden. Something was different. The temperature of the air had dropped. Not only that but the snowfall had thickened, beginning to turn into a torrent that looked like a white-streaked blur in front of Hana's face. The wind that had whispered so gently against Hana's skin moments earlier had transformed into a gale, causing the clothing on both girls to flap and flail as the chilling roar blew Hana's earmuffs into the white abyss.

"Hana!"

Hearing her name in the swirling snowfall, Hana followed its sound. She only had to take a few steps before she found Angela, hand extended to which Hana quickly took a hold of.

_Holy shit, she wasn't lying._

Hail pelted at Hana's face, causing her to squint to which she could only spot the crude outline of Angela's fur coat and feel the girl's warm hand against her own. The sudden blizzard made all sense of direction go out the window, yet Angela kept leading Hana, her grasp firm and resolute. Wet crystals somehow made their way into every crevice on Hana's body, thawing slowly as she felt her blood cool. They should've just followed the group, but Hana had to go and throw a fit and instigate a confrontation. Hana cried out but the wind carried her voice quicker than she could form words. At this rate, a measly scarf wasn't going to save her from hypothermia, or worse.

Just as her legs were becoming weary from digging through knee-high snow, the cold bashing against Hana's face stopped. She fought the encrusted ice around her eyes to open them, seeing that Angela had brought the two of them to the base of a broad oak tree, its bark creaked under the power of the wind. Letting go of Hana's hand, Angela put her back up against the old tree, a long flow of fog leaving her throat as she exhaled. Hana looked around herself, noticing that if she reached out with a limb, it would feel the full brunt of the wind's howl again. The only thing protecting the two right now was the wide oak.

"How'd you… How the hell did you know this was gonna happen!?" Hana exclaimed, finally regaining her breath. "They said there wasn't going to be a blizzard!"

With a thin smile, Angela gradually closed her eyes and tilted her head upwards. "Listen, Hana. Whatever happens next, just try to stay calm, okay?"

_Huh?_

Just as she was about to ask what Angela was on about, Hana's ears picked up a distinct sound in the midst of the blizzard. It was shrilling note, like the whistling noise of a projectile piercing through the air.

She looked around briefly. "Hey, do you hear tha-"

_Argh, fuck!_

Bringing a hand to her neck, Hana stumbled forwards. The noise had stopped, lasting only a few seconds, but upon its cessation, there was a sharp searing pain that made its way onto the nape of her neck. There was a hot burning sensation as to where Hana felt the sting. She clawed at her neck, ruffling Angela's scarf as her fingers felt something rigid, something metal. Curling her fingers around the object, she pulled on it with one swift motion, feeling something leaving her skin as she did so. Bringing the object in front of her, Hana's eyes widened. It looked like… some sort of _dart_. The needle-tip dripped with a slushy yellow liquid, the thin metal being connected to a small vial of sorts.

_What the hell!?_

Holding the dart in front of her, Hana walked up to Angela. "You have any idea what the hell this… is…" She found herself slurring.

The hand holding the dart had begun to feel numb as if it weren't Hana's to control. It fell from her hand as Hana's vision slowly began to blur. Her knees became frail and her arms weighed more than they usually did. Her head felt tangled as if floating in a sea of nothingness. With another step forward, her whole body came under the spell of a sudden exhaustion as she lost balance. Just as she was about to fall face first into the ground, Hana saw Angela rush towards her and catch her in her arms mid-fall. With her head resting on Angela's shoulder, Hana struggled to open her mouth to speak, a strand of the other girl's hair gently brushing against her face.

"I'm sorry…" Angela whispered, her voice low and shaky.

With the blizzard raging around her and her mind starting to drift, the last thing Hana could discern was the sweet vanilla scent of Angela's hair as her eyes fluttered shut.

And then all was cold.


	5. Interrogation

**_I don't own Overwatch._**

 

Angela knew she had done something atrocious when she had to debate with herself for hours on end just to justify it. The longer she thought about it, the more confused her morals became. Bringing a hand up to the one-way mirror, she drew circles with her finger, outlining the figure that slept beyond the glass.

"It's been more than few hours," Angela said to the woman behind her. "Shouldn't the sedative have worn off by now?"

"I'm not sure," the woman spoke. "I may have misjudged the dosage - she's much more diminutive than I expected. Or perhaps I shot the dart beyond a superficial vein - it's difficult to aim through a snowstorm, Ziegler."

Taking her hand off the glass, Angela felt another spool of guilt swell up in her stomach. She watched Hana, the girl slumbered in a cold steel seat, her head rested on the aluminum table with her arms acting as cushions. The blizzard had windswept her soft brunette hair, and specks of ice crystals remained on the girl's turtleneck and on Angela's scarf to which Hana still wore.

She looked so peaceful.

_And beautiful…_

Angela shook her head, quickly discarding the abrupt thought.

"The results came back for the status check you requested," the woman said, sounding much deeper than before. A pause. "The father, a couple of months back during infiltration into an Omnic manufacturing facility. The mother, around the same time, septic shock from a chronic wound to the lower abdomen."

The absence of any further words was more than enough for Angela to understand what was being said, a mutual awareness between the two. Angela's heart twisted in on itself, her chest felt empty as if something had been taken away, stolen from her, even though she wasn't the one with the loss. It was a feeling she never thought she'd have to relive, but it was much more subdued than the last time it had happened. It was a reminder of how paradise could be robbed so easily, how an entire life could change in the span of a few hours. She hoped Hana would take the news better than the way she had all those years ago.

"Oh, and do be sure to thank Dr. Mei-Ling for letting us borrow her weather drone. It provided more than ample cover for the extraction," the woman said, steering the conversation away from what didn't need to be said. "Don't worry about the other students. Reports say they made it to the other side of the monastery without a problem."

"And our cover stories?" Angela asked, turning around and ignoring the demons gnawing at her conscience.

"The media thinks you and _her_ ," - the woman nodded towards Hana - "were carried off by the blizzard. They only presume you're missing at this point."

The ashen-haired figure stepped into the dim light that radiated from the opposite side of the mirror. Angela's breath always hitched when she saw the patch around the other woman's eye. She insisted that she could create a bionic replacement for her, but the woman always refused, saying that her injury was a reminder of the consequences to her hesitation.

"For your first field operation, I have to say I'm quite impressed," she said.

Angela shrugged reluctantly. "It's not like I did anything you and the others do on a daily basis."

_Not that I would ever want to anyway._

"It's a step in the right direction. Soon you'll be able to join us on the more challenging assignments. How goes your latest project? The Cactus Staff I believe it's called?"

"Caduceus. It's the Caduceus Staff. And no, it'll be a few years before we can even begin prototyping. Progress is delayed because, well… I've been helping you find _her,_ " Angela bit her lip, still wrestling with the justification to her wrongdoing. "Captain, if I may speak freely?"

"You may."

"What if it really isn't her? We'd have committed an abduction for no reason."

"Like you said, Angela, there's too many coincidences. The hardware she possesses, her daily schedule compared to the broadcasted hours, the recognition of her voice, too many variables point in the same direction for this to be a mere coincidence."

It was true.

The woman smirked. "I still can't believe so many people would watch someone else play a video game."

"She's popular and very… likable," Angela said, murmuring her last word.

The woman quirked a brow, befuddled to Angela's sudden demure manners. "Likable or not, we'll see what she can do. If _she_ can't pilot the darn machine, I'm afraid the project will have to be retired as a complete failure."

"Couldn't we just-"

The intercom bolted into the wall beside the mirror moaned, its sound transmitted from the other side of the glass. Turning back around, Angela's face became etched with worry as she saw Hana stir from her sleep. The girl had rolled onto her side, her lashes barely apart as the intercom picked up a drowsy question that came from the girl's mouth.

"Where… am… I?" Hana said. She was only just audible.

"She's awake," Angela said, directing the statement more at herself than to the other person in the room.

"Good. I was beginning to think I may have overdosed her," the woman said, opening the door to leave the room. "It's about time I had a little chat with this girl."

Before the woman could leave, however, Angela called out to her. "Ana."

The woman stood in the doorway, turning around at the last second before shooting a glance. "Yes?"

"I know you have to try and convince her…" Angela said, "But could you please, _please_ not mention anything about her parents?"

Ana Amari wrinkled her forehead, wondering why Angela would want to leave such important information out. It would be valuable munition to use in bringing the girl onto their side, but upon gazing into Angela's eyes, seeing nothing but pain and sorrow, she realized Angela was trying to spare the girl the same experience she had gone through when Overwatch first found her.

Sighing, Ana replied, "As you wish. I'll do my best to steer the conversation away from it, but if the need arises, I'm going to mention it."

With a sincere smile, Angela nodded and watched Ana head towards the interview room. Turning back to the mirror, she pressed her lips together, about to observe the interrogation to come.

* * *

_Ugh… My head..._

There was a blunt, throbbing pain coursing through Hana's skull as she let out a moan. An ache right between her eyes made her want to throw up, but her muscles lacked the energy to do so. Even though Hana had never sipped a drop of alcohol in her life, she imagined this was the fabled 'Saturday-night hangover' the delinquents at Salesian had. She was sitting on something hard, smooth, like metal that made her backside feel cold. There was a similar feeling in her arms as they were laid out bare under her head, providing a thread of comfort in the strange environment. The air wasn't chilly, she heard no wind, and she felt no snow. Wherever she was, it wasn't outside the Sanctum of Nepal monastery anymore.

Recruiting every muscle fiber in her face, Hana squeezed her eyes shut before relaxing them, allowing them to finally open and adjust to her surroundings. When she glanced around, she found herself in a lit room with nothing but the chair under her seat, the table that acted as her makeshift headrest, a second chair across the table, and a metal, vertical, sliding door in the far corner of the room. The floors and walls were made of steel, spotless and sterile. There was a single light blaring from above, so bright that it felt like it burnt Hana's corneas when she looked at it. On the far side of the room, there was a mirror with Hana staring right back at herself.

_Where… am I?_

Rolling her head and shoulders back into the seat, Hana stretched her limbs. Her head still throbbed every time her heart beat, as if a hammer was beating the top of her cranium with every pulse. Struggling, she tried to remember what had happened.

_There was… the field trip._

Images of mountain and snow briefly flashed in her mind.

_Then there was the monastery… with the garden._

_And that blizzard._

She shuddered, remembering the feeling of frost being embedded on her skin.

_And then… and then…_

Bringing her hands to her head, Hana rubbed her temples, attempting to recall the series of events. Her jaw clenched and her eyes widened as memories came flooding back.

_There was that oak tree. Angela. That dart thing._

Hastily, Hana clasped a hand around her neck, remembering the small object that had pierced her skin. When she found the object wasn't there, she breathed a sigh of relief. With her hand still on her neck, she felt the soft fabric of a scarf that didn't belong to her. When the cloth smelled of vanilla essence, Hana remembered its actual owner.

"Angela…" she said to herself, remembering the person she last saw before ending up in this mess. Looking around the barren room, she said the girl's name again, a bit louder this time. "Angela."

The room was dead silent, save from the buzzing of the light fixture overhead. Growing more frustrated, Hana slammed a fist down on the metal table, pain surging through her hand as she had forgotten its previous injury.

"Angela!" Hana cried.

Still silence. The only comforting sound Hana could hear was her inner voice as it tried to grapple onto a shred of reason. How much time had passed since she had blacked out at the monastery garden? Hana patted her pockets for her phone. Missing. Letting out a groan, she slumped back down onto the table, scrunching up her face as hard as she could, fighting back tears. She was scared. Frightened. She didn't know where she was, who had brought her here, or where Angela was, the only possible familiar face that Hana thought she'd see in this situation. Hana hated herself for thinking of her.

Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands, Hana didn't notice the door in the room's corner slide up into the wall. When the door touched the ground again with a metallic _thud_ she pulled her hands away, seeing a woman had entered the room with a cup and saucer in hand. Hana's eyes found themselves being drawn to the woman's, or more accurately, the woman's left one as a thick black patch covered the right.

She had an aged figure and complexion, covered by a faded nut-brown cloak with sky-blue accents that hooded over her head, a small patch of white hair protruded from her scalp. Her face was wrinkled and looked to have been smoldered by the sun over a lifetime. The cloak itself had metal components, like that of light armor, that rattled against each other as the woman stepped towards the table, a hint of a smile on her face. Her shoes clacked against the floor, as if her soles were made of iron. Below her naked eye was a symbol, tattooed into the skin, odd looking enough to be straight out of Hana's history books. Her most noticeable feature, however, wasn't the plated outfit or the woman's eye, but it was the insignia adorned on her cloak's shoulder pad. It was a white halo with two tines converging to its center, a gold accent on the upper arc. It looked strangely familiar. Hana swore she had seen it before…

The woman sipped on the steaming cup before taking the seat opposite Hana. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not Ziegler," she said with an accent that sounded from the Middle-East. Her voice was mature, senior, and dripped with experience. Experience in what, however, Hana was unsure of.

"Huh?" Hana said.

"You were shouting quite loudly. But I'm afraid calling for Ziegler won't summon her."

Her mouth frozen, Hana found it difficult to form words. Swallowing embarrassment, she managed to string some questions together. "Where am I? Who the fuck are _you_!?"

After another sip, the woman placed the saucer and cup down onto the table with a gentle _clink_. "Such language from a young woman. I thought South Korea's most popular streamer was lively, spirited, and kind. Care for some tea?" She picked up and held out the cup and saucer in gesture.

The air in Hana's chest died. "Did you… did you just…"

"Offer you tea? Yes, I believe everyone should enjoy the herbal pleasures of tea."

"No, you just called me South Korea's most popular streamer," Hana stated.

Withdrawing the cup, the woman grinned. "That's you, isn't it?"

Pupils dilating, Hana narrowed her eyes. She flexed her fingers at the mention of her title. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about," she said, crossing her arms before turning away.

It sounded as if the woman was laughing, but when Hana looked to her, she was just taking another sip out of her steamy cup.

"In answer to your question, you're in Switzerland. Zürich to be precise," the woman said, changing the topic. "What you see around you is part of the headquarters of the organization I work for." She waved a hand to the walls and mirror. "And you may address me as Ana."

Staring with cow-eyes, Hana had to replay the woman's words in her head.

She was in… Switzerland!?

_How the hell did I get here!?_

"I know what you're probably thinking," Ana said. As if reading Hana's mind, the woman continued, "We picked you up by helijet a couple hours ago when you were sleeping like a baby - in Ziegler's bosom I might add." The color in Hana's face rose to which the woman chuckled quietly. "It was necessary to keep you warm."

_So Angela's in on all of this…_

A part of Hana knew something was off about Angela, but she would never have expected this. However, it made sense.

"What the hell do you want from me?" Hana asked in a hushed tone.

The woman who called herself Ana set aside her cup and saucer and clasped her hands together in front of her. "There's a very simple answer to that, Hana."

… _She knows my name?_

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Hana felt drawn to the woman's gaze as their eyes locked for what felt like a minute. Ana's hazel irises pierced right through Hana.

"We need your help," Ana said simply.

"You… what?"

"If you are who we think you are, then we're in need of your _expertise_ per se."

"And who do you think I am?" Hana asked, a bead of sweat forming on her brow.

"Why, D•Va of course." The woman put it so plainly, Hana didn't even know how to react.

"You've got no proof," Hana said, challenging the woman's statement.

A smile grew on Ana's face as she reached next to her waist, procuring a phone from the depths of her cloak. She pushed it across the table, the device slid right into Hana's hands.

_This is..._

It was Hana's phone.

"Look familiar?" Ana asked. "It's a well-known habit that most people just use one account name and a single password for everything. After all, remembering more than one would be such a hassle."

It felt as if Hana's heart had sunk to the floor as she realized what Ana meant. Turning the screen on, she found everything to be normal. The time was almost midnight, which meant she had passed out for over half the day. Upon a closer look, however, she found that she was logged into everything, even the things she hadn't opened for years. E-mail, social media, bank accounts, cloud apps…

… and her stream profile. It showed everything from her screen name, to her stream statistics, and even her ranking on StarCraft. Usually, Hana would be proud of the bold number one beside her rank, but at the moment she just wanted to hurl her phone at the woman across from her.

"All we had to do was decrypt one of your less secure accounts, and voilà, access." The woman flourished her hands. "The decrypter was impressed that you'd use a proxy through a VPN to deter attacks, but he also said next time you should come up with a better password than 'WinkyGirl58'."

_Shit._

Hana creased her brow, baring her teeth as she came to grips with knowing that her alter ego had been discovered. Closing her eyes, she sighed. "Fine. You got me. I'm D•Va. Now what? You want my autograph? Is that it?"

With a grin, the woman picked up the cup and saucer in hand again. Upon taking a small sip, the woman snapped her wrist, launching the saucer plate like a frisbee through the air, straight at Hana's forehead. With milliseconds to react, Hana jerked her whole body to one side, the plate narrowly missing her as it crashed against the wall behind her, the sound of a million pieces of ceramic pattered onto the floor.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" Hana shouted, jumping to her feet, her heart rate spiking.

"Hmph. It looks like reaction time is certainly a trait of yours. This could actually work," Ana said, sipping the cup again. This time, with no saucer, the woman settled the cup down onto the table. "Relax, child. I was just testing you."

"Test!? Testing me for what!?" Hana's voice grew with each exasperated question.

"Why to see if you're fit to join Overwatch of course."

"... Overwatch?" When Hana said the word, her features relaxed somewhat.

"Ah, so you _have_ heard of it before."

It felt as if an electric shock had jolted Hana's head when she finally recognized the insignia on the woman's shoulder. Overwatch. She had seen the name all over her media feeds at some point but was quick to forget it as there had been no word about them for some time now. If Hana recalled correctly, they were a contingent of mercenaries, hired by the United Nations in hopes of overturning the Omnic Crisis. Since Hana hadn't heard much after their formation, she assumed the plan had been less than successful so far. Had they even done anything against the Omnics at this point? But at the moment, a bigger question was flaring in Hana's mind.

Without realizing it, Ana had stood up and was walking around Hana, inspecting her.

"Hmm… a bit on the slim side. But not to worry, with a bit of training from my daughter, you should be up to physical par."

_Daughter?_

"Why would you want _me_ to join your robot-fighting crew?" Hana asked, sitting back down.

Again, the woman chuckled. "Robot-fighting crew? Is that the reputation we have? I knew Morrison should've hired someone in public affairs…" She trailed off, sitting back down in her seat. "We want you because, well, we think your talents may be of some use."

… _Talents?_ Hana was sure she misheard her. "What talents do you possibly think I have that would let me break walking buckets of gears and wires?"

Taking a final sip out of the teacup, the woman could see Hana was feeling uneasy, the latter probably wondering whether or not she would have to dodge another piece of ceramic. "I'm not going to throw this at you if that's what you're thinking. And besides, we can discuss your usefulness after you become more acquainted with the grounds. At the moment I think it'd be best for you to rest. You have a long week ahead of you."

Sliding her chair back with a screech, Ana stood and made her way back to the door.

"Wait," Hana said, causing the woman to stop in her tracks. "What makes you think I'd even want to join you?"

"Because look at yourself," Ana said, not bothering to turn around. "I've read your profile. To put it bluntly, you're a failure academically, socially, and probably won't see much improvement in the coming years. You pretend to be someone you're not just to survive on the charity of squalid strangers."

It was obvious the woman had rehearsed this, but that thought didn't pain Hana less with each irrefutable reason Ana spouted.

"Plus, wouldn't you want to help your parents? Ki-tae and Jae-eun Song I believe their names are."

At the mention of her mother and father, Hana's eyes shot open. "How do you know them!?" she exclaimed.

"Personally I don't, but I do know from our databases that they're conscripted and also in the midst of the Crisis. With your help, they could return home sooner."

Something about the way Ana talked felt amiss, but Hana was too accepting of her words to even bother being skeptical. "I could… I could see them again?" A warm glowing feeling grew in her chest.

"That is if you decide to join us, yes. I'll have Ziegler escort you to your living quarters," With that, the woman nodded, leaving the room through the hydraulic door.

Staring at the mirror, Hana sat perfectly still, looking at herself. Thoughts of what she had learned in the past few minutes weighed heavily on her. She knew the woman was right, that she was a mess. Hana knew she wasn't smart enough for school, or one for friendly functions and gatherings. All she had was her made-up masquerade and the hours of gaming that helped build that facade. She was a joke to the operation of society. At least before she had people she cared about in her life, her mother and father. But now, with little ahead of her and unsure of when or _if_ her parents would come home, Hana was resigned to a life of mediocrity. So if an opportunity to even slightly increase the chances of seeing Ma and Pa arose, she would take it without hesitation, right? But did she really want to leave everything behind for some vague notion of partaking in a war against robots?

Burying her face in her hands, she already knew her answer.

* * *

So it _was_ true. Hana really was D•Va. Angela felt a lot lighter, as if she were Atlas and was finally able to roll the world off her shoulders. However, something still bugged her.

"You lied to her, about her parents," Angela said, her voice filled with sympathy.

"Would you have preferred I told the truth?" Ana asked. With no response from the young woman, Ana continued, "I said what was needed to convince her. Telling the truth would've just complicated matters, and the last thing I need right now is a mentally unstable girl as part of the team."

"Who else knows about them?"

"Just you, me, and perhaps some figures in the Korean Army. Other than that, no one." Taking a satisfied breath, Ana put a hand on Angela's shoulder. "When the time comes, you can break the news to her if you wish, because I'm not willing to impart that information."

"This is wrong. We shouldn't be lying to her."

"I'm not going to argue with your moral compass, Angela!" Ana snapped, causing the blonde girl to take a step back. At the sight of a spark of fright in Angela's eyes, Ana exhaled a long breath. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled like that. It's just… you and I both know she'll be extremely helpful if she can pilot the darn thing."

Relaxing her own posture, Angela replied, "It's okay. Things have been stressful."

"Agreed. On that note, I think you should show our guest to her room. It's been a long day for all of us."

Nodding in agreement, Angela turned back to the one-way mirror. When she saw Hana with her face in her hands, she felt as if a cat were scratching at the insides of her chest.

_What have I gotten you into…?_

 


	6. Catch and Release

**_I don't own Overwatch._ **

 

Cannon fodder.

Is that what she was going to be?

_What the hell were these people thinking?_

As Hana followed Angela down a dwindling maze of metal hallways, she had time to give thought to what she had just agreed to. When people talked about 'mixed feelings' like it was an exception, Hana loathed them because it was the norm for her.

She wasn't always frightened to try new things, things that challenged her. Heck, she remembered when her parents took her to Everland theme park in Gyeonggi-do when she was little. Forget about the children who had fears of the hover-coasters and plasma-jumps, Hana had nigh an anxiety attack from standing near a baby lamb at the petting zoo. Something about the unpredictability of another living creature always threw her off.

Build orders and proper unit queueing. Those were what made sense to her.

Animals and people? Not so much.

Her dad. He always said _If something scares you, then it might be worth a try._ And from the reassurance she saw in his face, Hana let go of her self-restraints and placed a hand on the wooly animal. The resulting smile on her parent's faces still burned bright in her memories.

But petting a ball of fur was far different to risking one's life in a war against artificial intelligence. Waist-high bars and animal treats, those were probably not enough to stop bullets and explosives. Were they just going to slap a uniform on her, give her a gun, and throw her onto the front lines? The old lady even said Hana didn't have the fittest physique - Hana could blame the soda and hours of sedentary streaming for that.

"I'm not stupid, I know you were watching me behind that _mirror_ ," Hana said, pulling air quotes.

Flustered, Angela scratched the back of her neck.

"I've seen enough T.V. drama to spot those things," Hana continued.

"Really? Which ones do you watch?"

"Don't try to change the subject."

"I'm just trying to make conversation."

"Conversation? _Conversation_? How about a conversation about who you really are?" Hana said. She was surprised at the bite in her own voice. "So I guess you're happy. You were right. I'm D•Va. Congratu- _fucking_ -lations. What are you going to do now? Tell the whole world? Tell them how much of a fraud I am?"

"No," Angela stated. "I won't do anything you don't want me to."

Hana snorted, keeping her mouth shut for the rest of the tour.

Looking out a nearby window, Hana saw white flakes along its edges. It was snow. It told her she wasn't underground, at least. Alas, the pitch black night prevented her from seeing beyond. Gray slate flooring, wire-ridden walls, and polystyrene squares gridded on the ceiling ran the hallway's entire length. An aseptic smell of disinfectant wafted from every crevice, clean and dustless. The place certainly wasn't run by crude caretakers and Hana guessed she should welcome that change from her disheveled apartment.

Taking notice of Hana's gaze out the windows, Angela said "It's not that much different from Nepal's. The weather that is. There's just _a lot_ more snow than what people would expect."

Expressionless, Hana said nothing. The blonde would pipe up every now and then when they passed by a door or branching hallway, explaining the layout of the building.

"That's the kitchen over there," Angela said, pointing down a corridor. "There's mostly peanut butter and bananas in the cabinets, though. Our resident scientist enjoys them particularly because…" She cleared her throat. "Well… you'll see why."

_Because he's a potassium-loving neckbeard?_

It was as if the two were back at Salesian, before the incident under the cherry blossom, when Hana had never spoken to the girl before her. How Hana wished she could travel back to those times.

"And down that way is the lab. You'll probably find me there most of the time, being a researcher and all," Angela said.

Hana smirked.

_Guess you can't hide being a nerd._

After a few more minutes of wandering around, the pair came upon a passage that looked much more homey compared to the rest of the grounds. On one side was a series of doors, each with initials embossed in gold letterings into laminated maple wood. This must've been the living quarters that the old lady was talking about. On the other side was a pane of glass, running at least fifty feet along the wall. And for the first time, Hana could clearly see the outside.

They were on the edge of a summit, the whole place having been built into the cliffside. The night's horizon was populated with mountains, each of them bone-white and piercing through the clouds. Angela wasn't lying when she said the weather wasn't much different from Nepal's. At the base of the mountains were an array of lights, dim, eager to make themselves stand out in the dark hovering fog. Their patterns resembled street lamps and skyscrapers, enough for Hana to imagine a huge city beneath them.

"That's Zürich," Angela said, noticing the pause in Hana's step. "We're looking down on it from the Swiss Alps."

_Holy shit, the Swiss Alps!?_

Not showing a sign of acknowledgment, Hana continued down the hall, turning her attention to the doors on her right. Some were musty, stale from what looked like years of never having been opened. Others were different. One had what looked like bullet holes. Another had burn marks scorched into the wood in two distinct patches. The doors further down also had their own quirks where one had a poster of the British flag nailed below the golden letters, and another had a doorframe half the height of a normal person.

"Those are the rooms for the other members. Most of them are on assignments at the moment so you'll probably meet them some time later," Angela said. "Your room's furthest down the hall… next to mine." Trepidation coated her last few words.

Passing the door marked 'A.Z.', the two finally came upon a letterless door, presumably Hana's. Opening it, Hana found a room not that much different from her bedroom apartment back in Korea. It had the same drab-style carpeting, a lone desk, and a bed held up by a block protrusion from the wall.

"Is this it?" Hana asked, mouth half-open, glancing around the room.

"Sorry, I know it's not much, but we really only use our rooms for sleep. The rest of the time it's either training or assignments. For me, it was the lab before I got you as an assignment."

Hana made a _tssk_ , irritated to the label she had been given.

Stepping into the room, Hana was slightly agitated at the absence of the whirring of her computer, having always expected the sound when she stepped into her bedroom.

"So… now what?" Hana said, turning around to face Angela.

"Rest. You'll need it for tomorrow."

"That reminds me, the old lady back there told me when I passed out, you held me to your-"

"Tomorrow you'll meet some of the other members and we'll get the engineer to outfit you," Angela said quickly, her ears becoming redder by the second.

A sharp exhale left Hana's nose, satisfied at the response she had provoked.

"Until then, I think you should sleep," Angela said.

"Wait. I'm getting an outfit?"

"Yes, you'll need special attire for what you're going to be doing."

_That sounds way too fucking kinky._

"And… what am I doing exactly?" Hana asked.

"Sorry, can't say."

"So I get shot and drugged, flown halfway across the world, imprisoned on a mountain, thrown into a bedroom no bigger than a broom closet, and you won't even tell me what you're planning to do with me?"

"I'm…" Angela sighed. "I can't tell you because Ana said I couldn't."

"Great. Just great. Thanks a lot," Hana said, rolling her eyes. "Keep being the spineless lackey you are."

With that, Hana tugged at the scarf around her neck, freeing herself from its bindings before tossing it at Angela. Wide-eyed, the girl caught it, the loose end of it lightly whipped her cheek.

Grasping the handle, Hana slammed the door with a satisfying _crack_ before she examined the lock, working the mechanism to prevent Angela any chance of retort. Honestly, Hana was a bit disappointed the girl didn't try to argue with her.

Instead, she heard a sigh followed by footsteps. A moment later, the room's door beside Hana's closed with a gentle _click_.

_Bitch._

It was funny. At times like these Hana actually enjoyed the company of her stream. The mindless bickering, questions, taunts, and unrequited advances of her stream chat would often keep her occupied, isolating her mind off other things. Namely, reality.

Hana laughed. It was a forced type of laughter, the kind which people made to keep themselves sane. For the first time in a while, she actually wanted to stream for the sole purpose of interacting with her viewers.

But without her computer, she was resigned to nothing.

She sighed heavily.

Collapsing onto the hard mattress, Hana laid on her side, drawing her phone out of pocket. There were hundreds of posts in her feed about two missing students, lost amidst a blizzard on a field trip in the Himalayas of Nepal. Every article mourned the fact that Angela was nowhere to be found. The girl with the bright future in advancing humanity's efforts in science. Even the web page banners were just plastered with Angela's face from the school's yearbook photos. There was perhaps only one or two lines at the end of each of the articles that mentioned Hana, also missing. Text only.

_Yeah, yeah. Everyone only cares about little miss perfect._

Tossing the phone across the mattress, Hana snarled. At least in the virtual world she was actually recognized. But now, with no belongings whatsoever and uncertainty clouding every single thought of hers, Hana sunk her head into the overstuffed pillow on her bed before she found herself sobbing quietly into its synthetic fabric.

* * *

Angela was never one to question her convictions. They were deep, rooted within her due to her upbringing from the authoritarian schools she attended before Salesian Academy. Her father called it tough love. He always kept strict discipline. Never yielding, and always in charge. _Rules are rules_. And although Angela heeded such sayings, her spirit struggled often at times to choose between what she was instructed to do, and what she thought was right.

And when she heard the soft sobs and cries of the girl next door to her, this was exactly one of those times.

Even hours into the night, she heard the occasional whimper. Nausea swirled unrestrained in Angela's stomach, her nerves grated against each other. Try as she did, she couldn't shut the sound out, preventing her from falling into the embrace of sleep.

Pulling the covers off of herself, she donned the nearest pieces of clothing over her nightgown: her lab coat and her olive scarf. Quietly, she exited her room and glanced at Hana's door before setting off down the hallway. Passing the kitchen, she grabbed a jar of peanut butter on her way towards the research wing laboratory. With the swipe of her hand across the access panel, the security doors parted, granting her entry.

The place was a mess. Tools and cables laid strewn about along. Blueprints and loose papers painted the floors and furniture. Angela breathed in the faint aroma of freshly melted solder as she almost stepped on a screwdriver.

Across the room, hunched over a worktable, was the scientist Angela was looking for. Sparks danced in the pale lighting of the lab as the figure handled a blow torch.

_Probably working on that bubble shield of his..._

"Straight back to work I see," Angela said, lightly kicking an empty soda can across the metal floor.

The hulking figure swiveled around on his chair, creaking the chair's piston as he did so.

"Doctor Ziegler!" Winston exclaimed in his booming voice. "What are you doing up so late? Shouldn't you be resting up from the mission?" He pounced off the chair, knuckle-walking up to Angela, his thick coat of black fur rustling against his dense armor.

"I know, I know. That's partly why I'm here. And please I've said this before, just call me Angela. I'm not even a doctor." She lobbed the jar of peanut butter up in the air to which Winston caught with a grin. "Thanks for piloting Ana and I back from Korea by the way."

"My pleasure. I would've been a real chimp to just leave you all stranded in that blistering weather. Mei's drone is really something." He placed the blow torch onto a nearby bench. "Say, how is the new recruit doing? Did you guys find out what you wanted?"

"Yeah. It's her," Angela said. Winston tilted his head to one side in response. "She's D•Va," Angela affirmed.

"Well that's wonderful! Your first completed field assignment! I knew the lead was good. It was too unusual that the sub-network for the stream came from everywhere except South Korea."

Angela smiled.

"We'll have a new person in the family!" Winston went on. "I'll round up everyone first thing tomorrow so that they can meet… uh… Angela?" He faltered in his speech upon seeing Angela frown.

"She's…"

"Let me guess," Winston said with a softer tone. "She's scared, unsure of what to make of all of this?" he asked, propping up his square glasses onto the bridge of his nose.

Surprised, Angela's mouth hung open for a moment. She briefly remembered the sobs coming from the room next to hers only minutes before. "Yes. How'd you know?"

Chuckling in a deep sound fit for the king of the jungle, Winston wandered over to the stairs in the far corner of the room before sitting down, patting the step next to him. Angela followed and gracefully took a seat as well.

"It was the same with Lena," Winston said. He wrinkled his nose. "When people finally found her, after she and the Slipstream went missing, she wasn't the animated person you and I see today."

"Wait a second. You're saying there was time Tracer didn't always have a huge grin on her face?" Angela asked with an incredulous smile.

"Unbelievable, I know," Winston said with a laugh. "When word got out that she'd reappeared, she vanished again. Her molecules were de-synced with time, unable to stay in physical reality. The few times I did talk with her after her reappearance, she was scared, and justifiably so."

"I can imagine."

"She was afraid that she'd never be a person again, able to talk with others, have friends, laugh, live. It's scary when you don't know what's happening around you - as if you're on an ocean ship and suddenly find that the water's turned to sand. That was when I began work on the chronal accelerator. After months of work on it, I managed to convince Lena to try it."

"And then what?"

"History," Winston said, cracking open the lid of the jar in his palms. "It managed to anchor her to the present, and now she's more energetic than when we picked her up for the Slipstream program."

"Okay, but what does this have to do with Hana?"

"... Hana?" Winston asked, confusion on his simian features.

"D•Va. It's her real name."

"Oh yes. Hana. Hana… Thong was it?"

"Song, Winston."

"Ah. Right. Song. A very nice name," Winston said, embarrassment visible on his face. "The point is; _that_ girl is in the same situation Lena was in. Scared, confused, having the world around her change into something she'd never seen before."

_And she probably doesn't even want to be a part of it..._

Using his finger to take a dip out of the peanut butter, Winston popped it into his mouth. His eyes shined with delight. "Crunchy."

"Your favorite," Angela said with a smile.

"I'm surprised you knew; given that you've only been here for a couple of months."

"I had a clue when one night the lab had an unreasonable amount of empty crunchy jars compared to the smooth ones."

Licking his finger clean, Winston turned to Angela. "You had it easy, you know. When we asked for you to join you knew exactly what you were in for."

"Sort of. The research and development part I understood, but I didn't know I'd be working with such _colorful_ people."

"And now we have another colorful person! Plus, judging by what I found on her phone, she has an _enormous_ online presence. She'd be great in getting more public approval for our cause." He scooped another handful of the peanut butter into his mouth. "What do you think of her?"

"Hana?" Angela asked to which Winston nodded. "I think…"

Looking to the ceiling, Angela had to ask herself. What did she _really_ think of Hana? In essence, the two were the same when they both lead bifurcated lives. Angela's being a student and a scientist. Hana's being D•Va and… well… Hana. But just a few hours ago, Angela had discovered something else they had in common. Something she couldn't tell Hana.

_Damn it..._

"I think she can be a bit curt or blunt at times, but I also think she could be..." - she placed a finger on her chin, thinking of the right word - " _kinder_ if she really wanted to be."

"No, no, not in that way," Winston said with an uptone. "I asked what you really _think_ of her."

Pondering for a second, Angela's face quickly flushed bright pink.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, drawing figure eights with her finger on the metal step.

Winston chuckled. "Okay, how about: do you think she'd be a good addition to the team?"

Thankful for the change of question, Angela replied, "Yes. If she can use the mech to its potential, I'm sure she would be a great asset."

"Asset? Is that all she is?"

Angela pursed her lips. "I didn't mean it like that and you know it."

A half-shrug. "Just seeing if the Captain's detachment has rubbed off on you or not. Glad it hasn't."

While Winston savored his buttery spread one dip at a time, Angela's eyes were downcast, recalling the faint weeping coming from the room beside hers. She could only imagine what Hana was going through. There had to be some way she could make the transition easier for her.

Then, with a tingle in her fingertips, she thought of an idea.

"Winston," she said.

Mouth chock-full of peanut butter, the gorilla gave an inquisitive look that said 'What is it?'.

"Is the helijet still in the hangar?" Angela asked.

Winston gulped before using the thick pelt on his arm to wipe his mouth. "Should be. Lena's still in Oxford, so nobody else could've flown off with it."

"Great, because you and I are going to go fetch some things."

"A recovery mission?" Winston asked, a slight shine in his eyes.

"Sort of. But we have to leave now," Angela said, standing up.

She walked over back to the lab's exit, beckoning for Winston to follow.

"Say - you've never been to South Korea have you, Winston?"


	7. A Bird, a Brit, and a Mech

**_I don't own Overwatch._ **

 

Her eyes felt puffy, whether it was from the crying or the minuscule amount of sleep she got, Hana didn't know. She rolled onto her back, unfurling her spine like an old accordion before sinking back into the springy mattress. She scanned the bed with her hand, making angels in an attempt to find the phone she had thrown away last night. The darn thing was under the mattress itself. She turned it on.

_5:45AM._

With a groan, she flung the device onto the carpet. It was early. _Too_ early. She should be streaming right now, stomping on ego-filled teens who had more brawn than brains when it came to StarCraft. That always brought a smile to her face.

Hana licked her lips. They were parched, salty from dry tears, and a whole evening without fluid. The inside of her cheeks felt arid, moistureless. With a thirst in mind, she tumbled out of the bed and onto her feet. There had to be water somewhere. Even if they did expect Hana to just lay in bed, they couldn't seriously think that she could sleep in a totally foreign environment comfortably. Dusting herself off, Hana quickly realized she was wearing the same clothes since leaving Salesian Academy on the flight to Nepal.

_Shit. Are they going to give me new clothes or what?_

Trudging over to the door, she unlocked and opened it, finding herself squinting hard at the rays of the naked sunrise bleeding through the crystal window pane. Once her vision settled, she looked down the hall, her gaze resting on Angela who had a markedly spotted lab coat flowing from her slim frame. She was lifting what looked like a heavy cardboard box. When their eyes met, the blonde looked like she had a mini heart-attack. Almost dropping the box in her hands, she came to an abrupt stop.

"H-Hana! You're awake!" Angela said.

"No shit," Hana replied, using the back of her hands to rub the rheum out of her eyes. "What does someone have to do to get some water around here?"

"Oh, I'm sorry… I forgot to tell you you're free to use whatever facilities you need," Angela said, her arms giving in as she crouched to the floor, placing the box down with a _clunk._

Peering over the top of it, Hana froze. A tint caught her eye. She recognized that hue of aluminum varnish anywhere. "Is that… Is that my—"

"Your computer?" Angela said with an exhale, standing and regaining her breath. She ran a hand through her frizzed hair, its golden fibers having been through some sort of gale. "A friend and I decided it would be nice to try and make your change of surroundings as seamless as possible. So we went back to Korea to get some of your things."

Hunkering down, Hana rubbed a hand against the slick surface of her computer's tower. It had been cleaned. Recently, too.

"Did you… did you _clean_ this?" Hana asked.

"Yeah. It was a bit dusty so I had a go over at it. Compressed air. Nothing wet," Angela replied. She was visibly exhausted, having the complexion of someone that had jet lag twelve times over combined with running several marathons. "There's more boxes back at the helijet with some of your other stuff - mostly just clothes."

_Clothes?_

"Thank God. I'm surprised you haven't given me one of those prison jumpsuits yet." Hana clicked her tongue, looking up at Angela. "Wait a sec. How'd you get in my apartment?"

With a wry smile, Angela said, "When you've read a bunch of old crime fiction, you learn a thing or two about lock picking."

"So it looks like Goody Two-Shoes _does_ get her hands dirty sometimes." A stray thought of Angela handling Hana's undergarments dug its way into her head.

"There wasn't any ill intent in mind, so I think it's justified," Angela said. Her body swayed slightly, almost as if she were about to topple over. She caught herself at the last moment on the window ledge. Hana felt something like concern… but quickly cut the feeling from her mind. "Oh, I almost forgot. I wasn't quite sure if you wanted this but I got it for you just in case…"

Angela reached inside her long coat, digging out a familiar silver photo frame.

It was the picture of Hana and her parents.

Angela held it out at arm's length, offering it to Hana to which she grabbed instantly. Hana continued to stare at Angela, unblinking, perplexed. It showed on her face when she quirked a brow. If it had been anyone else that had just given her the frame, she wasn't sure she could restrain herself from the rabid consequences. But it was Angela. She must've seen it sitting on Hana's desk and knew what had happened the last time she had touched it. Nevertheless, she had taken it, and brought it back.

_Why is she being so nice to me?_

Looking back to the photo, Hana thumbed the frame's corner, a wistful longing in her chest. "Thanks…" she muttered. It took every ounce of actin and myosin in her being to not clutch the thing to her sternum.

Smiling with both eyes and mouth, Angela said, "My pleasure."

There were two kinds of tired. The first being the type that just needed a good night's sleep to remedy, and the other one needing so much more. With her slumped posture, crinkled hair, and baggy eyes, Angela was most definitely the latter. It made Hana ask the question: Did the girl really stay up, fly back to Korea, break into her apartment, just to get her stuff? It seemed so out of place. What did Hana even do to deserve such kindness?

"Why are you doing this?" Hana asked.

"Doing what?" Angela replied. One could hear the fatigue in her voice.

Hana narrowed her eyes. "You know what I'm on about. I bet that old lady didn't even tell you to go get my stuff."

"You're right. Maybe I just want to make things a little easier for you, now that you're going to be part of the team and all. It's a big change, believe me, I know."

"That's another thing I don't get. How long did you say you've been working with these people?"

"About two years now. That was when I transferred to Salesian, remember? But I was always in contact with the other members, over video calls that is. That was until a couple months ago when I was finally able to meet them in person."

"Does that mean you've been looking for me for _two whole freakin' years_?"

"Pretty much."

Tucking her chin slightly, Hana couldn't help but feel a little hubris that someone would be willing to go to such lengths just to find D•Va. She had covered her tracks well. "What took you so long?" Hana asked.

"I didn't expect it to be you. Simple as that. We never even spoke until a week ago."

Hana swore she heard a tinge of disappointment in Angela's voice.

Grabbing the box by its underbelly, Angela carried the beige cardboard into Hana's 'bedroom'. Following closely behind, Hana gently placed her parent's photo frame on the desk.

"I'll go get the other boxes," Angela said, looking as if at any moment she could fall asleep.

"Uh… no," Hana said to which Angela raised an eyebrow. "Tell me where to go and I'll get them. You look tired as fuck - go to sleep."

She smirked. "Are you worried about my well-being?"

"No. I just don't want you messing with my stuff," Hana said in an undertone. Little did Angela know, Hana really did feel concern, mixed in with a little guilt.

Sighing, Angela stumbled out of the room and pointed down the corridor. Before she could utter any directions, however, there was sudden chiming in her lab pocket, a faint glow coming from the white fabric. Fishing out her phone, Angela smiled apologetically before answering the call.

"Winston? Yeah, I made it. You were right, it's heavier than it looks… What? Yes, she's awake." Pausing, Angela's eyes widened, staring into space. "They're here? We can't— It's much too early, isn't it? I don't care if Ana wants to, we shouldn't be making Hana—" Back and forth, Angela argued with the person called 'Winston'.

At the mention of her name, Hana's interest was piqued.

The phone conversation ended with Angela sighing, defeated. "Fine. We'll be right there." With a tap of her phone, disconnecting the call, Angela looked to Hana with those depleted eyes of hers. "Looks like sleep is going to have to wait." Walking a few steps down the hall, she gestured for Hana to follow. "We're going to meet up with some of the others. And… please don't freak out about Winston."

"Freak out? Why, is he ugly as heck?" Hana asked, shoving her hands into her pockets, following Angela. "I don't think I can freak out more than I already have."

Looking over her shoulder, Angela winked. "You'll see."

* * *

When Angela told Hana not to freak out, the latter simply assumed she just meant don't give off a bad first impression. So when the two walked through a high steel doorway and into the vast expanse of a hangar that must've been the size of a football field, Hana was overwhelmed to say the least. On the opposite side of the hangar was the open stretch of the Swiss Alps, melding into the metal of the Hangar's floor and walls. But that wasn't what caused Hana's jaw to drop open.

It was the gigantic gorilla wearing what looked like a freaking space suit. It stood on all fours under what Angela called the 'helijet' - a light gunmetal craft that had a pair of ducted fans as wings, rocket pods on its base, and guns protruding from its side doors. It looked right out of a Hollywood action set. The gorilla waved before knuckle-walking towards Angela and Hana.

It waved. It _waved._

Hana had watched nature documentaries during her humanities classes and knew that all primates had some level of intelligence. Waving might not have been that difficult for the animal... but when it stood right in front of Hana with square glasses on the bridge of its nose, Hana forgot how to breathe.

_It's got glasses._

_..._

_What the actual fuck._

"Greetings," it said in a low gruff voice.

Startled, Hana jumped behind Angela, her blood curdling as she grabbed the girl by the shoulders. "It can talk!?" Hana exclaimed.

At the word 'it', the primate noticeably winced. "The name's Winston. I'm the chief scientist around here," he said, pushing his glasses up. "A pleasure to meet you." He nodded his head politely.

"It's got a name too!? What the hell did you feed this thing!?"

"Hana, please," Angela said, gently taking Hana's hands off her shoulders, squeezing them slightly in reassurance. "Winston's a person with intelligence, like you or me. In fact, he may be even smarter than me. He was genetically enhanced as part of the experiment on the Horizon Lunar Colony."

_The Horizon Lunar Colony..?_

A moon base, if Hana recalled correctly from her science class. There was a week where people had flooded the streets with tributes and patronage because of an event on the colony. Something about the scientists having all been murdered by experimental gorillas, taking the moon base for their own. One of them had escaped and managed to flee for refuge on Earth. The news said it was a scientist, nothing about it being one of the goddamn gorillas.

Silence gripped Hana's tongue as she peered over Angela's shoulder. Winston didn't look like a monkey that could break into a frenzy at any moment. In fact, the yellow eyes behind those glasses looked calm, tranquil even, so he couldn't have followed the other subjects and went on that blood-borne rampage. The wrinkles in the gorilla's almost-black skinned face told Hana he was old, but without being an expert on primates, she couldn't put an exact number on his age. Angela stepped aside, giving Hana full view of Winston.

"Uh… so you can talk?" Hana asked slowly, unable to take her eyes off the lowland silverback beast.

"Yes, very much so," Winston said matter-of-factly. "I'm also proficient in mathematical physics, complex linguistics, combinatorics, and - if the situation requires - am also well-versed in philosophy."

"Holy crap. An actual talking monkey."

"I'm not a monkey," Winston said, looking bored all of a sudden.

Hearing the sound of Angela giggle, Hana turned to see the girl with a hand covering her mouth, a bright smile behind it no doubt.

"What's so funny?" Hana asked.

"Oh, nothing. Everyone's reaction to Winston is different. I think yours has been the best so far."

_Yeah, well, it's not every day you see a talking Harambe._

"Now that introductions are over..." Winston cleared his throat, bringing a fist to his mouth, "I think it's time we get to business."

There was the sudden sound of boots against the grated floor as a familiar voice spoke up from behind.

"Not yet."

Pirouetting on her feet, Hana saw it was the old lady, Ana, dressed in that light blue armor of hers. Beside her were two other women. The first had tanned bronze skin that reminded Hana of the old lady. Not only that, but she also had the same tattoo, under the opposite eye, just visible behind the shaded tint of her aviator teardrops. Her shoulders were broad, holding up a black calfskin jacket that enveloped a casual white tee. Dog tags hung from her neck, pointing down to the ripped denim of her jeans and a pair of stained umber boots. Her stance and robust figure exuded a certain kind of serenity. Was this the daughter Ana had mentioned?

The other girl just had a huge grin on her face.

When the trio stood before Hana, Angela, and Winston, the taller woman looked Hana up and down with a critical eye, scanning her skeleton.

"You're kidding me," she said, taking off her shades and placing them on the top of her head. Her accent was the same as the old lady's.

"Try to be kind, Fareeha," Ana said.

The woman called Fareeha harrumphed, seemingly dissatisfied with something. She twisted her mouth. "No," Fareeha said, shaking her head. Golden beads dangling from the woman's inky, shoulder-length hair swayed from side-to-side. "Mother, I refuse to believe you're letting _her_ into our ranks."

"What's wrong?" Ana asked.

Fareeha motioned to Hana. "Just look at her! How would _she_ help us in our struggle? She even doesn't look like she could break a twig."

At that, an anger bubbled inside Hana. "Oh yeah?" she said, lowering her eyebrows and curling her hands into fists. "How about we test that theory? I bet I can whoop your ass right here, right now." She felt Angela's hand grab her own as if to say 'that's not how you make a first impression'.

Baring her teeth, Fareeha took an aggravated step forward. "What'd you say to me?" she said with a grunt. Before she could take another step, the freckled woman held Fareeha back by grabbing the neck of her jacket.

"Hey, woah - calm down there, Big Bird!"

In a thick British inflection, the woman urged Fareeha to settle, letting go of the jacket. She blew at her hair - a spiky, chestnut mess - as she bounced up and down towards Hana. She was slightly shorter and looked dressed for an arctic expedition with the chocolate-shaded flight jacket she wore. There was also a soft cyan glow coming from the girl's chest, under the jacket's material. It was circular and had the same look like that superhero Hana had read about in one of those vintage comic books… Metal Man? Iron Hero? Something like that.

"This is D•Va we're talking to, Birdy! The world's best StarCraft player! Show a little respect will ya'?" the girl said. She held out an open hand towards Hana. "The name's Lena! Some of the others call me Tracer, but you can call me whatever you gosh darn like! Sorry about Hothead over there."

Fareeha exhaled through her nose.

Cautiously, Hana relaxed and slowly took Lena's hand in her own, lightly grasping it before the woman shook vigorously. She made a tiny squealing noise.

"I can't believe it! Sorry if I'm acting a bit weird... but you're actually the first celebrity I've ever met!" She didn't stop shaking as a flurry of words left her mouth. Finally letting go, the girl reached around her back, procuring a pen and paper seemingly out of thin air. "Say, could I get an autograph?"

"Uh…" Hana said, rubbing her hand against her pants, taking the pen and paper with a tilted head. She looked to Angela who was clearly amused, but not surprised.

_You knew this was gonna happen…_

"Lena, enough," Fareeha said. "You're acting more dim-witted than usual."

Turning, Lena placed her hands on her hips. "Hey. If _you_ wanted an autograph, then you should've brought your _own_ paper," she said, sticking her tongue out.

Unsure what the spiky-haired girl wanted, Hana simply wrote down in block letters 'D•VA'. No cursives or flourishes of any kind. She didn't have a signature for D•VA… since no one was supposed to know it was her, so the bare-boned moniker was the first thing she had thought of. Handing the pen and paper back, a broad smile graced Lena's lips as she examined the signature.

"Minimalist. I like it!" she said, folding the piece of paper and stuffing it into her back pocket.

Rolling her eyes, Fareeha pursed her lips. "Unbelievable. You don't even play that foolish game, Lena."

"So? Just because I don't play it doesn't mean I can't appreciate someone who's really good at it. Or better yet to say: the person who's the best in the world at it!"

It looked as if Fareeha was about to retort before Ana hissed for silence. "Quiet. Both of you," she said. Surprisingly, both girls shut their mouths, Fareeha looking away with an irritated expression, and Lena just shrunk down slightly. "Winston, how goes the demonstration A.I. on the mech?"

"It's currently running diagnostics in the field," Winston said, taking a gander at a touch screen in his hand, "but basic functions are fully operational."

It was tempting for Hana to just record Winston and upload him onto the web. Her instincts, however, told her it was best not to.

"Good," Ana said. She walked up beside Hana and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I think it's time we show the girl the new _game_ she'll be playing."

Nodding once, Winston moved his forefingers over the touch screen in his opposite hand, tapping on it a multitude of times to cause a symphony of beeping noises.

A few moments later, there was a distant humming in the air. It came from the open end of the hangar. The sound grew, transforming from a bee-like buzz into the rumbling of a jet at take-off. Fareeha had lowered her aviators, and Lena had a passive grin with fingers in her ears as both of them looked out in the same direction towards the alpine. Following their gaze, Hana peered into the whiteness that was the Swiss Alps. She had to bring a hand up just to avoid the glare of the morning sun, and when she did, she saw something _flying,_ maneuvering through the snow. It was shaped like a plane, but it had… legs? No. What kind of plane has legs? As the object drew closer, the booming racket became almost deafening. Hana followed Lena's example and jammed fingers into her ears, blocking out the sound as she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that it would lessen the head-splitting noise. Her hair tussled behind her in waves, as if a storm had localized itself to the hangar's interior.

Then, the sound stopped. Slowly, Hana reopened her eyes, and what stood before all of them had her freeze, eyes wide.

A few feet away was a… machine. That was the only word Hana could think of to describe it. At least ten feet tall, it had an odd anthropomorphism to it where it stood on two hind legs, hinging at different points along its limbs. The slate-grey legs were attached to a cockpit-like body with two 'arms' protruding out both sides, each of them ending in three open barrels, dripping with melted snow. Fins distinguished the slick curves on the machine, starting from the tip of a green-tinged window cone all the way back to its rear where the robot's thrusters were located. They were still smoking from what Hana assumed was its flight into the hangar.

"What in the world is _that_?" Hana asked, raising a wary finger.

" _This,_ " Winston said, patting the arm of the machine, "is a Meka."

"Built by the Mobile Exo-force of the Korean Army," Ana interjected. She had a look of admiration on her face. "Designed when the Omnics first attacked regions in the Siberian District, it was first deployed as a drone, capable of holding its own against a hundred Omnics if you let it." She crossed her arms, looking displeased. "But, recently those killer robots have managed to adapt. They've figured out the Meka's evasive flight patterns, attack algorithms, and defense methods, so that now no matter what we do, they can reduce one of these into a pile of rubble if they had enough firepower, which they certainly do."

Looking at the Meka again, Hana was in awe. When people thought about Korean constructions, they would think about its cybercafés, national intranet, and the country being the progenitor of eSports. Not in a million years would Hana have included war-ready automatons on that list.

"So… what does it do exactly?" Hana asked.

With a hint of a smile, Ana looked to Lena. "Tracer. Up for a little demonstration?"

Jumping up and down, Lena clapped excitedly. "You betcha!" She slipped off that flight jacket of hers, revealing a glowing disc-shaped device strapped to the bottom part of her chest. It whirred and faded brighter and darker as she dashed over to the other side of the hangar, behind the Meka and away from the rest of the group. She gave a thumbs up. "Ready!"

"You there," Ana said to Hana. "Pay attention because we're only going to show this once."

_Jeez, I didn't realize I was in a class._

"Winston. Run the demonstration," Ana said.

Nodding, the gorilla tapped the touch screen a couple more times. Next, the Meka hummed, life breathing into the machine. Gears and bolts murmured against one another as its legs began to move, taking large steps that clanged against the metal floor to turn around and face Lena. Hana couldn't have prepared for happened next. The boosters on the Meka's rear ignited, the smell of fuel traveled into her nostrils as the sound of the machine's thrusters built up to a climax that was less ear-splitting than its entrance. Squinting her eyes from the air blowing in the face, Hana watched the machine begin to hover, slowly but surely towards Lena, its humanlike legs a few inches off the ground.

Then, gunshots. It came from the ends of the Meka's arms, its tri-barrels rotated as Hana could spot viridescent muzzle flashes and hear cadenced cracking loud in the air, like thunder, but without the raw power. Flares flew up from the alloyed floor as a carpet of sparks rolled its way down across the hangar, spitting up fragments of silver and iron, straight towards Lena.

A muscle pulled in the space between Hana's heart and lung as she looked to Angela, concerned at Lena being right in the line of fire of the bipedal gunwalker. Angela, however, was quiet, still. Her eyes met Hana's and noticed the concern written across Hana's face such that she lifted her chin as if to say, 'Just watch'.

Looking back, Hana saw Lena, unperturbed by the gunfire headed her way. In fact, Hana dared say the girl was smiling. The sparks traveled closer. Two more seconds and the girl's body would be shredded into a fine pink mist by the Meka's armaments. Then, as if part of a magic trick, Lena disappeared with a _zip_.

No. Not disappear. A vague blue trail was left behind where she had been. Following it, Hana saw the girl some distance away on the other side of the hangar, having avoided the hail of bullets. She had… _teleported_!? The Meka readjusted, changing its trajectory path, gyrating on the spot as if to scan for its target which had somehow beamed themselves to the other side of the hangar. Lena let out a high-pitched laughter.

"What the fuck is going on!?" Hana blurted. She couldn't believe her own eyes.

"Hush, child," Ana said.

Doing as she was told just this once, Hana looked on.

Again, the Meka sliced through the air like scorching lead passing through butter. And when its shower of shelling came close to Lena again, the girl simply replicated her previous stunt. The dance between Lena and the machine continued, each one of the Meka's passes made Hana's heart skip a beat, fearing for the life of the other woman. Lena, on the other hand, just held a smile from ear-to-ear throughout the whole thing. Finally, the waltz came to an end when Lena reappeared beside Hana, the Meka having stopped its path-tracking on her, it's thrusters becoming docile as its weapons cooled down.

With a sharp breath in, Lena said, "That was more fun than I thought it would be."

"Demonstration isn't over yet," Ana said, walking behind Lena and snatching the pen out of her back pocket. With a flick, Ana launched the pen at the Meka. When it reached a few feet from impact, a brilliant beam of green shined from the tip of the machine's cockpit. It looked like a laser, and it had reduced the pen to ashes, the remains of it fluttering to the floor.

"Hey! That was mine!" Lena shouted, running over to pick up the pen's dusty remnants. It seeped through her fingertips as she frowned.

"So you see, child," Ana said, ignoring Lena's cry. "With its nimbleness, ordnance, and unique defense array, you Koreans have built a fine machine of war."

Swallowing hard, Hana found words difficult for her to form. She had just witnessed a killer robot, a teleporting Brit, and a talking monkey – one versed in philosophy at that.

"What does this have anything to do with _me_? Don't tell me I'm going to be the person polishing that thing when it comes back from blowing up nuts and bolts," Hana said.

Chuckling, Ana folded her hands behind her back. "No. When I said the Omnics had adapted to the Meka's abilities, I wasn't saying it for decor." She circled Hana, everyone else watching the two as Hana felt much too in the spotlight. "We couldn't just abandon the Meka project, because it's had a track record of being extremely effective. So we decided the mechs themselves could use pilots, someone to adapt to every situation and not need pre-programmed responses, someone to bypass Omnic wireless jamming frequencies and operate the Mekas from within. But the question remained. Who would be best at manning such a machine? Could you tell me, girl?"

"How the hell would I know? It's not like I would know anything about—" Hana's eye twitched. With all that had happened, with all the talk over Hana and how her ' _abilities_ ' were needed by these people, she could tell where this was going. "You're fucking kidding me."

"I do not joke, child," Ana said, pride gracing her features as she and Hana shared a mutual acknowledgement. "That pilot is _you._ "

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every Sunday.


	8. Tailoring to Size

**_I don't own Overwatch._ **

 

"You're really not one for first impressions," Angela said.

Pretending to not hear the girl sitting on the edge of her bed, Hana mashed a hotkey, queuing up a second Roach to whittle down her opponent's advancing light infantry. It was relieving to have her computer back, to be able to log into one of her alternate accounts - a 'smurf' people called it - and dive into a competitive match. There was a tenseness in her muscles that made her feel like stone, chiseled from compacted marble, and not a girl of flesh and bone. It showed when Hana's rigid fingers struck her keyboard. She needed the therapeutic release of the game, needed to escape what was real, needed to shut things she had seen in the past hour out of her mind.

"I mean, you and Lena got off to a good start," Angela said, causing Hana to recall the jagged-haired woman. "She walked in on me while I was watching your stream one night. Couldn't stop talking about you for a week. She really likes you. Maybe she's a celebrity worshipper, or maybe she just likes the vibes of your stream."

_Hah._

Again, Hana ignored Angela, her eyes glued to her freshly polished monitor. The leather padding on her headphones relaxed everything above her neck. She clenched her jaw, however, when she saw her opponent had constructed Thors, the massive armored units reminding her of the walking behemoth she had seen in the hangar.

"Fareeha, on the other hand…" Angela said.

_Yeah, what the hell was her problem?_

"... You two could've gotten along better. I've never seen Fareeha act out like that before." Her voice trailed off as she swung her legs playfully from the edge of the bed. "Don't take it personally. Fareeha is just very… _dedicated_ to her duties. She's probably just surprised to find someone as young as yourself being put in the field."

_She's batshit crazy is what she is._

Out of all the temperamental people Hana had met, Fareeha was something else. Usually, Hana would be the provocateur, bringing people's anger to the forefront. However, without even trying to elicit a response on Hana's part, there was a flickering glint in that woman's earthen eyes, and it wasn't anger or resentment. It looked almost like jealousy.

But jealousy of _what?_

"Hopefully it's water under the bridge. After all, you're going to be training with her," Angela said, collapsing onto the bed.

A misclick. Hana fumbled her micro-movements with her squad of Medivacs. Did she hear Angela right, that she was going to be _training_ with that woman? Training what, how to be a total bitch? God, this day could not get any better. She was tempted to turn her stream on, just to experience the favorable reception from her gullible viewers. But then she would have to deal with the moronic aftermath. They were already getting restless at D•Va's absence. Another day wouldn't matter.

"How are you feeling?" Angela asked, staring blankly at the ceiling, arms spread by her side.

_You have no idea._

A few skirmishes later, her opponent was at her mercy, finally conceding defeat as Hana typed a quick 'gg' before leaning back in her chair. Without a single glance at the girl on her bed, she queued up for another match instantly. She was in no mood for idle chatter. All she wanted right now was to do what she did best.

"I know you can hear me, Hana," Angela said. She laid on her side, placing her head in her hands, and Hana could just feel the piercing stare from those cerulean eyes of hers. "Why won't you talk to me?"

_Because you're the one who got me into this shit._

Another moment of silence. Even though there wasn't any sound coming from her headphones, Hana continued to ignore Angela. The queue had popped and Hana was in her next game, her attention centered entirely on slaughtering her digital enemy.

Angela let out a prolonged sigh. "You're quite pretty when you're focused, you know that?"

Hana bent over her desk, suddenly feeling a trickle of saliva enter her trachea before she went into a coughing fit. Her hands left the keyboard and mouse as she brought both fists to her chest, striking her diaphragm before turning, wide-eyed at Angela.

"W-what!?" Hana sputtered mid-cough.

Angela smirked. "See? Knew you could hear me." She leaned over, reaching a hand behind Hana's computer case and held out the jack that connected to Hana's headphones. "It wasn't even plugged in."

With a scowl Hana snatched the cable out of Angela's hand, swiftly plugging it in before redirecting her attention back to the screen. But without configuring it, there was still no sound from her headphones.

Suppressing a laugh, Angela returned to her supine position. "Tell you what, I'm going down to the city later. Would you like to accompany me?" She looked up through her lashes. "Between assignments and training, we sometimes have time to ourselves. Just come and see the city."

Hana mashed the spacebar harder than usual.

"Think about it," Angela said with a yawn. She rolled over, laying her head down into the soft pillow.

A few moments later, the only sound that perturbed the silent room was the clicking and tapping of the computer's peripherals. Finding it odd, Hana stole a glimpse at her bed. With her back towards Hana, Angela's chest rose and fell gently, each movement harmonizing with a faint flow of air from her lips.

She was asleep.

Quietly, Hana stood from her desk, ignoring the platoon of Marines massacring her SCVs.

It was a smurf account. She didn't care if she lost.

Carefully, she put her hands on the bed, pushing its springs down slightly as she peered over. The girl's eyes were closed, mouth slightly open as the breath leaving it blew at a lock of blonde hair resting across her relaxed face. It seemed her overnight trip to Korea had finally taken its toll. And for some odd reason, Hana couldn't look away. She was enthralled by Angela's vulnerability right at that moment, something innately intimate about the situation. Her curiosity went as far as to wonder what the girl's fair skin felt like against her own.

_What is wrong with you._

_Stop._

_Staring._

_At her._

Then, Angela murmured something out of earshot and Hana couldn't have jumped back in her seat faster if she'd tried. Her hands cemented themselves to the mouse and keyboard. A few seconds passed. She looked back, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw Angela continue to lull in her own dreamworld.

_Too close._

Seeing how her opponent had annihilated any chance of a comeback, Hana surrendered indifferently, her keystrokes softer than usual so that she wouldn't wake Angela. Queueing up again, Hana leaned back into her chair, swiveling from left-to-right.

This wasn't working.

The game itself kept reminding Hana of the Meka, that she was supposed to pilot the thing. Even the Stalker units reminded her of that British girl who could instantly move from one place to another. Turns out she could use that thing on her chest to speed up and slow down time. Hana never paid much attention in physics, but even she thought time alteration sounded impossible.

Then again with a talking gorilla, anything could happen.

The whole building made Hana's skin crawl with anxiety, causing her to just want to curl fetal in the room's corner. She had to get away, even if it was just for a little while, but she knew she wouldn't get far on her own against a damn helijet. She gripped her armrests in frustration but then relaxed them as she thought about Angela's offer from a few moments ago.

_Go down to the city? As in Zürich?_

A week ago Hana would've done anything for a getaway to another country's capital. Tokyo was on the top of her bucket list, but Zürich would've been fine as well. Except right now, instead of running from school, she was running from conscription. A trip to downtown Switzerland might clear her head. She would have to take up Angela's offer when the girl woke.

At the moment, however, she had to ruin someone else's day as the game's queue popped.

* * *

It wasn't until the mid-afternoon did Angela finally rouse from her slumber.

"I'm so, _so,_ sorry," Angela said for what felt like the sixth time as she weaved through the scurrying crowd.

When Angela said they would go down to the city, Hana was expecting their destination to be the business district or somewhere remotely fancy. She didn't expect to be thrown into the middle of a bazaar where the footpaths were crowded by the common rabble, stalls sold burlap sacks of dried fruit and nuts on every corner, and the charcoal burnt odor of lamb wafted into the atmosphere along with the smoke of open flames.

"I don't know what happened. I was just going to rest my eyes, and then… I fell asleep," Angela said sheepishly. "Thank you, though. For letting me use your bedding,"

_You talk in your sleep, you know._

"Don't mention it," Hana said, following Angela's lead along the dirt path.

"No, really, I apprecia—"

"Ever."

Hana's voice was muffled slightly by the linen scarf wrapped around her face. A 'precaution' Angela said since Hana and her were still technically missing. She said people might recognize them, leading to unwanted attention. Hana, however, knew people could only recognize Angela, not her. No one knew who she was. Alas, it was cold outside so she donned the garment nevertheless.

Rust red spices and lime green powders spilled from their sacks onto concrete paveways, mixing in with loose ice and snow. They filled Hana's nostrils with unfamiliar scents that cut through her debilitating thoughts with ease.

"Why the heck are we in the middle of a bazaar?" Hana asked.

"Because. I need to buy some things and people will recognize us if we headed to the wealthier districts."

"You mean they'll recognize _you_ ," Hana said. "Is it because you're so loaded you shop there too often?"

"I… splurge on occasion, yes. But I also come down here when I want to mingle with the citizens. It's calming."

_Wow. Didn't know you were a such a moneybags._

"So what are you buying exactly?" Hana asked, pushing her way through the crowd.

"I know someone who owns a clothes store around here." It was hard to hear her over the background bartering.

"You dragged me out here to go _clothes shopping_?"

"If I recall you were very eager to tag along."

"I was _eager_ to get the hell away from that room you so kindly shoved me into," Hana said. At least now she knew she wasn't a prisoner confined to the mountain. "Didn't know you were just shopping for goddamn clothes."

"Maybe you'll see something you like," Angela said.

_Yeah. Problem is, I don't have any money on me._

"What about animals?" Angela said. She had stopped in front of a kiosk where there were cages upon cages of wildlife on the counter. "Who knows. Maybe you'll find your spirit animal."

Hana examined the kiosk's counter. There was an unbelievable racket, as expected of a noisy menagerie. A tumult of squawks, hooting, and screeches, louder than the bustling of the city's lower-class. Birds flapped their beating wings against thin wire mesh, gerbils scampered around in dry hay, and a baby duck chirped for its mother's mammaries. Nearest to Hana was a cage with a lone bunny resting against a faux-wood log, its snout sniffing at its sudden visitor.

She had seen bunnies before, lurking in the tall canola fields of Busan. They would move slowly, lolloping across, grazing as they went. Whenever she tried to get close, they would up themselves on their hind legs, and simply bounce away from their would-be predator. They were wild and free, which made the one in front of Hana that much more heart-rending. The poor creature's albino fur had been marred by its own feces, the color no longer blending in with the snowflakes that settled in through the cage's latticework. It looked at Hana with sullen ruby-pink eyes, a despair in them as it was inclined to its tight enclosure.

Sympathy tugged at the edges of her lips as Hana placed a hand on top of the cage.

_You and me both, pal..._

"It's a Florida White," Angela said, seeing Hana take a fancy to the little mammal. "Fond of it?"

Immediately, Hana broke out of her trance, turning her back on the bunny. "No," she said, breaking into a stride down the path again. It took a moment for Angela to catch up as she looked back and forth between Hana and the Florida White.

Angela's footsteps slowed as she briefly looked around herself. "That way," she said, taking off again down another busy route.

Groaning, Hana followed reluctantly. At least she was outdoors - something she would never have cared for back in Korea. The liveliness and color polluting the air were kind of nice, different from the staleness of Hana's cramped room.

Turning another corner, the pair came to a more spacious path, one with fewer people pushing up against Hana which made her relax somewhat. Still, both sides had stalls along the path's length, but they weren't selling produce or herbal seasonings. It was clothes. The entire road was a gallery of silks and woven cotton, every article either folded on tabletops or hanging from the struts of the stall's tents.

With a curiosity, Hana walked over to one of the stalls, rubbing the cuffs of a red dress between her fingertips. It was smooth. On the backside of the dress, Hana found its price tag. When she flipped it over she furrowed a brow.

_Jesus._

No wonder there were fewer people in this part of the bazaar. The cost of these were borderline extortion. Who in their right mind would buy these, furthermore even have the cash lying around to do so?

Looking back, Hana saw Angela busying herself at a stall on the far end of the road. She was perusing the wares of a jeweler, a finger on her chin as it looked like she was deciding which precious stone to purchase out of the hundreds laying flush against the table's leatherette.

_Oh. Of course._

As Hana walked up to Angela, she was just in time to witness the girl hand over an inch-thick wad of notes to the saleslady, the two of them exchanging thanks in German. In return, Angela received a small box, the kind someone would use for an engagement proposal.

"No," Hana said.

"Huh?" Angela said, slightly startled at Hana who was standing mere inches behind her. " _No_ what?"

"If you're going to ask me to marry you, the answer's no," Hana said, pointing to the box in Angela's hands.

With open eyes that were desperately searching for reason, Angela realized what Hana had meant. "Oh! No, no. This isn't a ring."

"Uh-huh. What is it then?"

"A surprise," Angela said, tucking the box into her coat pocket. She said nothing further.

"It's always secrets with you isn't it..."

With faster steps than usual, Angela had already made her way to another stall on the opposite edge of the path, beckoning for Hana to follow. She was holding the canvas flap of an opening into a tented store. "This is the one," she said.

Feeling slightly irritated at being treated like a dog, Hana huffed. Nevertheless, she trudged on over to Angela who had already made her way into the overly-lit tent.

What she saw within was nothing short of a fashion paradise. If Hana didn't know any better, she would've thought she had walked into one of those pompous designer stores in a city's typical business district. Except instead of halogen bulbing, there were oil lanterns, and instead of sleek tiling, there was skin-sloughing sand. With a deceptively spacious interior and clothing racks filled to the brim with bank-emptying garments, it was more of a museum than a clothes store.

"Hello? Anybody here?" Angela called out, walking towards the counter.

There was a rustling sound coming from behind the beaded curtain behind the table. "No more fittings today, I'm afraid. Come back tomorrow," a feminine voice said.

Not budging, Angela called out again. "It's important," she said.

"That's what everybody says."

"We're not leaving until you do a fitting, Satya," Angela said.

At the mention of a name, the rustling noise ceased. Then, a dark-skinned hand brushed away at the bead curtains, the little pearls rattled against each other before they revealed a charcoal-haired woman. Her narrowed eyes must've meant Angela had hit a sweet spot of some sort. She exited the back room, wearing a lavender sari that wrapped around her waist, draping around her shoulder, baring her midriff. Standing behind a row of shirts, the woman looked at Angela.

"Who are you?" she asked.

With a flourish, Angela unfurled the scarf around her face, unveiling a smile.

"Ziegler! Why didn't you say you were coming? I would've prepared some Darjeeling tea and some pakora," the woman said.

"Sorry, I should've called ahead," Angela said.

The woman looked to Hana. "And who might this be? Is this the girl you've been texting me about for the past week?"

Hana smirked, seeing Angela's neck tense. "When we get back, I want to see those texts," Hana said.

"No. I mean _yes_ ," Angela answered, shifting awkwardly on the spot. She stood aside for the woman and Hana to look at one another. "Satya, Hana. Hana, Satya. Satya's another one of our members. By day she's one of Vishkar's best light-bending architects. By night…"

"By night I run the fine establishment you stand in," Satya said.

"You mean this hovel on the side of a dirt road?" Hana asked. "Pretty ballsy to make some of these dresses cost as much as a small villa."

Satya twisted her lips. "The prices are appropriate. One cannot put a value on the heart of a craftsman that painstakingly mended every thread around us."

Hana shrugged. "Like I said. Pretty ballsy."

"So the reason we've come down here," Angela said quickly, hoping to defuse another social catastrophe, "is because we need measurements."

"Measurements?" Hana asked.

"Ah, yes," Satya said, nodding. "I hear you've been inducted into our ranks as a pilot for the Meka."

_Fuck. Why did you have to remind me._

"And as such," Satya continued, "you'll be needing a special uniform that will allow you to sync your movements with the Meka's. There are several devices in the cockpit of the mech that'll track your motions, and it should allow you to move seamlessly with the machine, although it will require practice."

"So… what does this have to do with _measurements_?"

A smirk. Satya reached into the hem of her sari, pulling out a thin yellow tape. She walked over to the curtain flaps leading into the store and zipped it up from top to bottom. Then, in almost an instant, she was behind Hana, stretching the tape out, muttering numbers to herself as she circled Hana in a twirl.

"What are you—"

"Take off the coat," Satya said.

"Say what?"

"I don't believe I stuttered, did I? Take off the coat."

Unsure why she did it, Hana looked to Angela. The blonde nodded. With an exasperated groan, Hana unzipped her coat, letting her arms slip out of its furs as it fell to her feet. The evening air gave her goosebumps.

"Good," Satya said. She lifted Hana's arm, thrusting the tape alongside it.

"Hey! What the heck do you think you're—"

"Hold still, girl," Satya said, squeezing Hana's forearm. She let go, and then lifted Hana's other arm. After murmuring another measurement, Satya sounded satisfied. Then, she called to Angela. "Ziegler, hold up the girl's shirt while I take her circumference."

_What._

"M-me!?" Angela said.

"Yes. Hurry. I don't have all day. This was an unexpected visit, after all. I thought we would be having this measuring session back at headquarters."

"Can't she hold it up herself?" Angela asked, a plea in her voice.

"Yeah, can't I hold it myself?" Hana said. She hoped to avoid the exact same situation Angela was trying to.

"Unacceptable. Doing it on one's own inflates the true circumference of the abdomen by a few hundredths of an inch. The uniform has to conform perfectly for optimal tracking by the Meka."

Steeling herself noticeably, Angela dropped her gaze to the floor. It looked like she understood what Satya meant. Silently, she walked up to Hana, daring not to look her in the eyes. She took off her fur gloves, setting them aside before she slowly grabbed the hem of Hana's plain white tee.

Feeling Angela's fingers on her waist made Hana stiffen, causing her to look straight ahead with a deadpan expression. The warmth of the girl's fingers made Hana inhale with an edge. Then, her entire midsection felt the chilling air of the store as Angela gradually lifted Hana's shirt just above her navel. Out of the corner of her eye, Hana could see Angela looking in the complete opposite direction, clenching her jaw as her ears became a light pink. She then felt the tape being pulled around her as Satya kneeled down to read off the tape's incremented lines.

"Hmm… Alright. That should be fine," Satya said. "You can let go."

Letting go of Hana's shirt, Angela exhaled a breath she'd been holding in. She rushed back to her spot, a good distance from Hana and Satya as she desperately busied herself by browsing the clothes hanging from the walls.

Not realizing it, Hana also let go of the breath she had been holding.

"You're quite the slim one," Satya said.

_Uh… thanks?_

"It'll help," she continued, seeing Hana's confusion. "It should allow for a greater range of motion within the Meka's cockpit."

Nodding as quick as she could, Hana just wanted the fitting to be over already. And after Satya wreathed the tape around a few more of Hana's limbs, including her thighs and posterior, she wound the tape around her hand, placing the small cylinder of tape back into her sari.

"There. Finished," Satya said, pleased with her handiwork. She unzipped the store's curtain flaps. "Now if that's all, I'll have to ask you two to leave so I can begin work on the suit right away. It should be ready for you back at headquarters tomorrow morning."

It felt as if a weight had been lifted from her. Hana took Satya's request gladly, picking up her coat off the floor, and stomped her way to the exit. She felt as if she had just undergone something that constituted physical harassment.

Angela, however, had something else on her mind. "Actually, there's one more thing," she said. She pulled out the ring box from her coat, opening it to take out what looked to be a florid-colored rock the size of Hana's thumb. Gently, she plucked it out of its casing and handed it to Satya.

"My goodness, Angela. Is this… is this _pure_ rose quartz?" Satya asked, inspecting the pink gem.

Shrugging, Angela handed the box over as well. "I'm not sure. I just enjoyed the color and thought you could help shape it for me."

"Shape it? Of course, I could cut it for you. What shape would you have me mold it into?"

Rubbing her chin for a moment, Angela contemplated the question. Then, she leaned into Satya's ear and whispered something out of Hana's earreach.

"Are you sure?" Satya asked. "For such a precious stone to be cut into _that_?"

"I'm sure," Angela said, smiling gratuitously.

"Very well. I shall have it done by tomorrow, along with the suit."

Both women performed a small bow before Angela caught up with Hana, the two of them leaving through the rugged curtains.

Hana eyed Angela suspiciously as the two of them backtracked the way they came.

"What the hell was all that?" Hana asked.

"Satya was planning on tailoring the Meka's outfit for you later, but since you came with me to the city, I thought we could get it over and done with."

"And you were going to tell me this when?"

"Tomorrow. I kind of wish Satya did do it tomorrow..." Angela said, looking as if she was remembering her aid in Hana's measuring.

Quickly, Hana tried to change the topic. "Where did you get the money to buy that thing?" she asked.

"Hmm? The gemstone?"

"Yeah."

Angela's eyes were downcast as if Hana had struck a nerve. It took a while, Angela looking like she was mulling over whether to answer or not. "I had some wealth... _bequeathed_ to me," she said.

"Be-what-now?"

"Bequeathed. Inherited."

"Oh. Did a rich uncle die or something?"

"Something like that... yes," Angela said. She wore a solemn smile, but it was so forced, even Hana could tell.

With another brief glance at Angela, Hana decided to leave it at that. Even she understood things that sometimes needed not be said.

Although the crypticness of Angela's reply had Hana wondering, the rest of the trip through the bazaar and back to the mountains was made in complete silence.

 


	9. Windswept Flights, Part I

**_I don't own Overwatch._ **

 

"You didn't tell me this back at the store!" Angela cried, per voice pitched higher than usual.

"Well, no," Satya said, "because I thought you were just going to keep it for yourself. How was I meant to know it was a gift?" She handed the ring box over to Angela.

"You know me, Satya! I've never been one for jewels or stones!" Taking the small black case in her hands, Angela thumbed it open, revealing the rose quartz that had been shaped into the dainty face of a bunny. The many facets on the bunny's ears gleamed a salmon tinge as the light coming from the mountain's East funneled through the open window of the headquarter's hallway. Even the silver chain looped into the gemstone glittered.

"Calm down, Ziegler. It's nothing to get fussy over," Satya said.

"Nothing to get _fussy_ over? I can't even return it now that it's been shaped. How was I meant to know that rose quartz meant..." Her breathing quickened as she thought back to what Satya had said. "What did you say it was?"

"The Heart Stone. The Crystal of Unconditional Love. Usually, it's a gift between lovers. It's quite well-known amongst the alternative medicine communities, which is why I thought you would've known as well since you're the medical genius around here."

… _Between lovers?!_

Cue more spluttering. It was defensive and there was a voice in the back of Angela's mind that told her Satya had noticed the wince she'd made. "But crystal healing is a pseudoscience! I haven't a clue on those practices!" Angela cried.

"I don't see what the big issue is here," Satya said. "I doubt the girl even knew the stone was rose quartz until I said it back at the store. What's got you so wound up?"

"She might…" _Get the wrong idea._ Angela shook her head, banishing the thought. "Nothing. You're right, it's fine. It's _fine_. I'm sorry for acting up. Like you said, if I didn't know then she probably won't either."

_Please, Lord, I hope she doesn't._

Giving Angela a silent look, Satya nodded slowly. "Exactly. So relax, will you? Besides, I think _this_ is more important than the quartz."

Holding up the textile that was wrapped around her arm, Satya unfurled the Meka's jumpsuit, letting its sleeves and pant legs unroll towards the floor. "With this, you guys should finally be able to start the training."

Taking the suit in her hands, Angela looked it over. With its fusion of blue nylon and contrasting white-blue striated carbon fiber, the outfit looked exactly like the one in the blueprints. The only outlying feature was the word 'MEKA' embossed onto the outer thigh of the left pant leg. Along with the suit, Satya handed over a pair of white neoprene gloves, a firmness in the wrists of each for the wirings and circuitry underneath.

"The blueprints didn't say to stamp 'MEKA' on it, did it?" Angela asked curiously.

"It was a spur of the moment sort of thing. It was either that or 'designed in Korea'. I like my version better," Satya replied, folding her arms. "The gloves took longer than the suit itself because for some reason I have fewer capacitors than usual..." Satya said. "Has Winston been sneaking into my workshop again?"

_Yes._

"Not that I'm aware of," Angela said with a shrug. She hated lying, but the condition was if she wouldn't tell Satya that Winston was using her components for his bubble shield, he would fly them to Korea to collect Hana's things.

"Well? What do you think?" Satya asked.

"It's perfect, given that you made it in one night."

With a high chin, Satya replied, "Vishkar didn't pick me as a hard-light architect for no reason."

"I can see why," Angela said with a wavering smile. "I guess all that's left to do now is to see if it fits her."

"Excellent," Satya agreed, waving dismissively before turning to walk the other way. "Tell me how it goes."

Blinking rapidly, Angela felt her blood pressure rise. "Wait, what? You're making _me_ give it to her!?"

"Of course. Didn't you want to also hand over that gift of yours?" Satya said, not bothering to stop.

_Maybe not, now that I know what it means..._

"Well, I did, but—"

"Then you can help her with the suit as well. Two birds with one stone, as they say. I've got to go tinker with this new shield generator Ana's been bothering me about..."

With an open mouth, Angela watched Satya disappear down the hall. She felt her pulse in her throat as she lowered her chin to her chest. After a long, low sigh, she started walking towards the living quarters, the Meka's jumpsuit and the small ring box in hand. On her way, she had whisked out her phone, dialing a specific number before hugging the thing to her ear.

It rung once. Twice. Three times before the receiver picked up.

"Fareeha?" Angela questioned. "It's me…— Yes, it's finished which is why I'm going to go see her now…— The sooner the better…— Alright, we'll see you then…"

Exchanging farewells, Angela hung up, being unable to think about anything else except the obscure implications of a simple pink rock.

* * *

With her face buried in the pillow, Hana groaned. Her pillow case was overflowing with a vanilla fragrance, a symptom from Angela's impromptu sleepover from the day before. The scent was pleasing - and for that, Hana hated herself. It reminded her of Angela. And her face. That stupid, damn, pretty face of hers. Was this what they called Stockholm Syndrome?

Swiping her phone off the desk, Hana looked up the condition. When she found a semi-reputable website, she went through the symptoms and causes one at a time.

'The situation lasts for several days or longer?'

_Yep._

'The controller remains in contact with the victim?'

_Mhmm._

'The controller shows some kindness to the victim?'

_Yep._

'The victim develops sentiments towards their captor?'

… _God, no._

Hana didn't like her captors one bit. Even though for the past few days Angela had been nothing but considerate and good-intentioned, Hana couldn't forget the fact that she was basically a hostage being forced into a fight she never wanted to be a part of. She loathed the woman, hated her, abhorred the very thought of her.

_..._

_Right?_

Hana let out another long, low-toned groan into the pillow.

It was Day Four now since her disappearance. The news had slowly moved back into fear-mongering propaganda about Omnic invasion. Whenever they did mention the case of the two missing girls at Salesian Academy, they would spout a fifteen-minute biography on Angela, leaving Hana almost completely out of the segment. However, forums and internet boards everywhere had grown impatient at the lack of D•Va's online presence, and that, weirdly enough, gave Hana a sense of comfort. At least she was being missed in a divergent manner, even if it wasn't her they were really missing. It wasn't part of her usual schedule, but Hana was considering whether or not to give her viewers what they wanted and stream for just a couple of hours.

… _Fuck it._

Shooting off her mattress, Hana flopped into her chair, firing up her computer. If D•Va was what they wanted, then that's what she was going to give them. It'd be another sliver of familiarity in her foreign surroundings.

Just as Hana slipped on her headphones, however, there was a knock at the door.

She shrugged it off, hoping that whoever it was would take the message that she didn't want to be disturbed. But when the knock came again with a familiar voice asking 'Hana? Are you in there?', she sneered, rubbing a hand down her face before she stood to open the door.

Swinging it open, she stood face-to-face with just who she was expecting. "What do you want, dork?" Hana asked.

"Oh good, you're here," Angela said. She was wearing that floor-length lab coat of hers. In her hands, a neatly folded piece of clothing. "Are you busy?"

Crossing her arms, Hana couldn't take her eyes off the fabric in Angela's hands. "Depends. What if I said I was?"

"Then I'd come back later since I wouldn't want to disturb you."

Hana flared her nostrils, grimacing as she found herself irrationally annoyed at Angela's thoughtfulness. "Well, I am - being busy chatting up all the single Swiss hotties in the area. I can't believe you're still single with all the machos in this country."

Angela froze in place, looking to the side slightly as she tried to cover her flushed face with her hair.

"It's called a _joke_ , doofus," Hana said.

"Oh."

"What's that?" She jutted a finger at the thing in Angela's arms.

"The Meka's outfit." She cleared her throat. "I thought we could see if the jumpsuit fits you."

"Seriously? Right now?" Hana asked, raising a brow. She knew that if she were to turn Angela away right now, the girl would come back sooner or later. Persistence was always a quality of hers. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

With a sincere smile, Angela handed over the garment to which Hana took with a pinched expression. The thing was light. It didn't feel like Hana was holding anything at all. She rolled it over in her hands wondering what the heck the thing was made of to feel so weightless. With a shrug, she tossed it onto her bed, the material looking as if it had floated down onto the mattress.

"You might need help with the—"

"Yeah, yeah," Hana said, slamming the door shut. She stood still for a while, ears vigilant for the sound of footsteps indicating Angela's departure.

There were none.

Sighing, Hana thinned her lips. "You're still there, aren't you?"

"Mhmm," Angela murmured from the other side of the door.

"Ugh. I guess you want me to try it on _now?"_ Hana couldn't see, but she knew from behind the door Angela was nodding.

"If it's not an issue... yes."

Throwing her hands up, Hana was resigned to the girl's request. What would it take for this girl to leave her alone? Did she have to register a damn restraining order? Briefly, Hana looked at the desktop on her screen. Her viewers would have to wait a teeny bit longer.

Walking over to her bed, Hana splayed the suit out to see what she was dealing with. She knew the darker woman back at the bazaar had said she was slim, but even _this_ was a bit overzealous. Slouching onto the bed, Hana examined the suit. It wasn't all soft as she expected. There were stiff sections where Hana's collarbone and thighs would be along with the suit itself having halo-white Chelsea boots sewn into the seams. There was a single zipper at the back of it that traversed the spine to which Hana gently unfastened. She dipped a hand into the suit, chafing the material as it provided almost no feedback.

Standing, Hana pinched the sides of her short's, slipping out of them as they fell to the floor. Her tee came next when she grabbed the hem of it to strip it over her shoulders before sending it flying across the room. The morning air felt pleasant against her nape and back, like a cold shower on a weekend morn. She relished in the feeling for a few more seconds before she took the Meka's suit in her hands. She held the gap open, sliding in one leg, and then the other. There was no doubt about it; the thing had definitely been tailored to her. Her arms dug into the suit's sleeves as she shuffled around, settling into them.

_Holy crap… It's so…_

'Snug' was the only word Hana could think of. It fit to every contour on her body. And she meant _every_ contour. The drab white and blue-purple color scheme was also to her liking. The only notable thing about the whole suit was the pea-green lettering of 'MEKA' along her thigh. Then, with all the gymnastic prowess she could muster, Hana reached over her shoulder for the zipper.

Unfortunately, her flexibility wasn't the best from being desk-bound every night for the past year. She soon found herself writhing around, spinning as she clawed at her back.

"Come on, you piece of…"

"Hana?" Angela called from the other side of the door. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah. Just fan— _tas_ —tic," Hana said between lunges.

"It's the zip, isn't it?"

Hana yelped, a few the zipper's teeth had caught a layer of skin. She hunched her shoulders. "Um… yeah."

_Living in an era with British time travelers and glasses-wearing monkeys, and they still haven't solved how to make a self-zipper..._

"I knew this would happen," Angela said. "Hang on, let me help with it."

Hana flinched as she opened her mouth to protest. But Angela had already entered the room and was behind her, a hand on Hana's shoulder that was politely asking her to stand still. With a bare back, Hana was speechless as she felt pressure envelope her torso, the zipper being pulled up by Angela's slender fingers. She felt like someone who was being taught how to lace up a bodycon for Senior Prom.

"There," Angela said.

Stepping forward and away from Angela, Hana leaned down to run a hand across her outer calf. The suit followed along showing no signs of resistance or tautness. Twirling playfully on the spot, Hana put her hands on her hips. The suit was comfortable, to say the least.

"Well?" Hana asked, turning to face Angela. "Am I up to your _standards?_ "

There was an awkwardness in the air. Angela stood eerily still, her lips parted slightly, her lapis eyes not leaving Hana for one second. She tried to say something but remained inarticulate, her hands clenched briefly before releasing.

"I honestly don't care if you say it looks like shit. I'm not the one who made it."

With a small shudder, Angela looked to the ground. "No… no. It's not that." Her voice was strained, concealing an emotion in her voice. "It's adequate. Satya did an excellent job."

"Does it really look that bad?"

"I didn't say that," Angela said. She dug into her coat pocket before sticking her hand out, a pair of white gloves in them. "Here, you have to put these on too."

Hana rolled her eyes before grabbing the gloves from Angela. She wiggled her fingers into them, snapping them on like a doctor before surgery. "What am I, a magician now? What's the point of these things?"

"They've got circuitry underneath so we can monitor your vitals. Respiration, heart rate, temperature, all the usual."

"Wow, you didn't wire it with another one of your recording bugs? I'm surprised," Hana said, looking at the back of her hands.

Swallowing, Angela bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she began, her voice almost a whisper. "I really didn't want to do what I did back then. But it was the only way I could get concrete evidence as to who you really were."

"No. You could've also drugged and kidnapped me like some randy abductor and hacked into my phone," Hana said. She put a finger to her lip before opening her mouth in mock surprise. " _Oh wait!_ That's exactly what you did!"

Angela became unnaturally quiet, her hand rubbing her opposite arm nervously as she stared down at her feet. Watching the girl now, Hana could tell Angela felt genuine guilt at her deeds. It was a striking contrast to the confident and gracious student council president Hana had known for the past two years, and it made Hana feel as if she'd just kicked a puppy.

_Damn it..._

Sighing internally, Hana took a harder look at Angela. She was only doing what she was told. She wasn't any different from a pawn being moved on the board. "Anything else you want to give?" Hana asked, hoping to alleviate Angela's thoughts.

Looking up with reflective eyes, Angela's gaze met Hana's. The sternness Hana had always seen in them faltered, and it showed when Angela was at a loss for words. She had reached into her coat pocket, fumbling at something mildly cube-shaped inside it before she uttered an unconvincing 'no'.

"Great, because if that's all, then please get out," Hana said. If she was going to stream, then she sure as hell wasn't going to do it in front of Angela. And especially not in this garb.

"Wait. Fareeha and the others are waiting for us in the hangar."

A flashback to the woman Lena had called 'Birdy'. " _That_ crazy woman? What the hell does she want?"

Angela's reply was a knowing smile. "We have to meet them now that you're suited. You don't have aviophobia, do you?"

"Uh… I don't know what that means."

"Aviophobia. A fear of flying."

Placing a thumb to her chin, Hana mused the question. "When you dragged over my limp body from Nepal, was I kicking and screaming unconsciously on the way?"

"No."

"Then I probably don't have it."

"That's... not how phobia diagnosis works."

"I'm not scared of flying, alright?" Hana said, flexing her fingers.

"Good," Angela said, "then you won't have to take any Xanax."

"Xanax? Christ, you make it sound like I'm going to have an aneurysm or something. Just what exactly are we doing?"

She smiled. "Flying," was her response. With that, Angela turned on her heel and out of the room, leaving the door open as she glanced at Hana expectantly to follow.

Looking back to her computer, Hana felt a sour taste in her mouth.

It looked like D•Va was taking a hiatus for yet another day.

* * *

"There she is!" Lena exclaimed. The girl's cinnamon eyes sparkled and gleamed as she bounced from foot to foot. She was waving ecstatically to which Hana felt obliged to sign a meek wave of her own. "I'm so excited! She's actually going to do it!"

"Dial it back, Lena."

The ashen old lady still had that dignified look about her as she watched Hana and Angela walk towards them. Radiating superiority, she glared intensely at Hana and the new suit she wore. She looked at Hana from head to toe, appraising the Meka's jumpsuit before appearing satisfied with a cocky grin.

"Satya's work?" Ana asked Angela.

Angela gave a crisp nod. She looked around the hangar. "Where's Winston?"

"He's dealing with Satya. Something about missing capacitors and the such," Ana stated. "We're going to have to start without him."

' _I think I'd prefer it like that,'_ Hana thought. She didn't think she could contain another reaction at the gorilla.

"Birdy is warming up her jets outside," Lena said. "You know how the captain's daughter is, right Angela? She won't admit it but I know she loves showing up looking cool and all… Don't tell her I said that."

Angela held a hand up to her mouth, holding in a laugh.

Heart racing, Hana took one glimpse at the elephant in the room. The Meka, standing menacingly beside Ana and Lena, dormant, unmoving as the dark shade of its paint sent chills down Hana's spine. She felt a shakiness in her limbs that forced her to gulp down a breath in order to stay quiet.

"Are you ready, child?" Ana asked.

It took a moment for Hana to realize Ana was speaking to her. Her mind was too preoccupied with surveying the metal husk that she was about to be put into.

"Do I got a choice?" Hana asked.

"No."

' _Then why'd you even ask?_ ' was what Hana wanted to say.

But before she could, a deep, rhythmic _clanking_ cut through the hangar, sounding like a dull hammer striking an anvil over and over. Hana looked from side-to-side trying to identify the sound's source, but the other three seemed undisturbed by the noise.

"Here she comes," Lena said, looking over Hana's shoulder.

Facing in the direction Lena was looking, Hana found her mouth ajar, stifling a tiny gasp as to who - or what - she saw.

With a glint in her lone iris, Ana clasped her hands together. "Let's begin, shall we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays!


	10. Windswept Flights, Part II

**_I don't own Overwatch._ **

 

Zürichsee laid flat in the open expanse on the sultry day. There were no ripples, no disturbances whatsoever atop the ice lake's surface, as if time itself had frozen. In the unrelenting glare of the midday sun that peeked out from behind bleak clouds, Hana expected some degree of heat to split the icy winds. She couldn't have been more wrong. The Meka's jumpsuit was less than an eighth-of-an-inch thick, and she wished her tailor had threaded some sort of temp fiber into the material. Her lips were cracked from frost and her teeth jittered in the thinning wind. Freshly fallen snow crunched underfoot where she trudged through whitened grass along the lake's embankment, her legs feeling fatigued from the hike.

Behind her, metric vibrations from the Meka's footsteps agitated specks of loose snow. The pilotless machine stomped on the slick lake, following the navigation given to it by the old lady. The ice sheets were thick, thick enough to not just withstand the weight of the group, but also the tons the Meka must've weighed. The shakiness Hana felt in her knees wasn't only from exhaustion, but also from fear of the ice cracking beneath her, sending her to a premature, frigid grave.

The problem being… she didn't know how to swim. She didn't tell anyone of course. Fareeha would probably go on for a good while about how inept Hana was, and judging by the way the woman walked in front of everybody else, she was already in a sour mood.

But Hana was reassured that the lake's foundation had been thickened over a whole entire Winter. _'Thicker than Birdy,'_ was how Lena had put it.

It was only when the group had made it to the middle of the ice lake did Ana raise a fist, causing everyone to stop. "This is far enough," she said.

"It's about time! I don't think I could walk another step," Lena said, slouching over with a huff.

Glancing around, all Hana could see was the white-streaked tips of endless mountains and pine woodlands that blocked the view of Zürich's city skyline. They were in the middle of nowhere, out on a frozen lake - precautions for the training that was to come.

Turning, Hana looked to Fareeha. The only part of her visible in the cobalt-shaded exoskeleton she wore was her face, just under her eagle-like visor. Back at the hangar, Hana finally realized why Lena called Fareeha 'Birdy'. The woman's uniform was nothing short of avian with two wings protruding from her back, each of them fitted with skulking propulsive jets. Hana hadn't seen them in action yet, but she knew they would allow the woman to take flight.

She stared at Hana with a cold shimmer in her eyes, silent and unmoving. Having not said a thing since they'd left the mountains, Fareeha was either not one for chatter or was quietly undermining every action Hana made. And Hana had a gut feeling it was the latter. She felt an unshakable irritation coming from the young Egyptian, never having seen her smile once. It unnerved Hana to the point of wanting to shake an explanation out of her.

"Open 'er up, Cap!" Lena exclaimed, patting a hand against one of the Meka's legs.

"Silence, Lena," Ana said. "The only reason you're here is because I don't feel it riskless for you to be by yourself at headquarters."

"Aw, come on. I've never done anything wrong when you guys are gone."

"Really now," Ana said, crossing her arms with an unconvinced look. "Do you forget the time when Jesse found his Peacekeeper atop the Alps' summit?"

"Hey, that was funny. You should've seen his fa—"

"Or when Genji discovered his entire room had been plastered with those colorful sketches of risque women?"

 _Genji?_ The name was familiar, but for the life of her, Hana couldn't remember where she had heard it before.

"It's called _anime_ , Cap. I thought he'd like it! Besides, I think even Satya laughed at that one," Lena said, sticking her chest out proudly.

Rubbing her fingers on the bridge of her nose, Ana exhaled. "Just stay on the lookout for any civilians, will you? Even though this is no-man's-land, I don't want to have to explain why we're experimenting with live mechs near a civilian zone. We're already treading on thin ice with the U.N."

Beaming a bright smile, Lena chirped a quick 'you got it.' The next thing Hana knew, the Brit had zipped past her towards the opposite end of the lake, leaving behind a trail of divided snow, parting her own little Red Sea.

Once Lena was gone, Ana gestured for Hana to come forward and stand beside the mech. "Quickly now," she said sharply. "None of us here would like to stay out longer than needed."

_You could say that again._

Poking her tongue into her cheek, Hana followed the curt instructions. She didn't take to being ordered around lightly, but she also didn't want to peeve off her abductors more than needed. She let out a misty breath before walking over beside Ana, forcing herself not to frown.

The old lady lightly pecked at the screen in her hands, each button press producing a small tone. When she was done, she looked up at the Meka. At first, there was creaking. Metal grinded against metal as the mech slowly began to move. Pistons depressurized, spewing hot, smoggy haze into Zürichsee's air whilst the Meka bent at its knees, lowering itself onto the frozen lake. Startled, Hana stepped back, raising a hand to stave off the steam. With a hiss, the mech dropped its fuselage forward, the back of it cracking open like an egg in presentation, welcoming its pilot. All Hana could see inside the machine was the pale glow of lime light, reflecting off the luster of dark, cushioned leather.

"Hana," Angela said from beside her.

Facing the girl, Hana saw she was holding out a headset, not that much different from the one Hana used during her streams. This one, however, was large enough to cover the entire sides of her face and had narrow antennae sticking out from each earmuff.

"You'll want to wear these."

"Am I a dress-up doll to you?" Hana replied. "I thought the spandex and the gloves were more than enough."

"If you care about your hearing at all, I suggest you listen to Ziegler. The Meka can be quite loud once you're in the air," Ana said.

At the thought of the deafening roar the Meka made when Hana first saw the machine, she snatched the headphones out of Angela's hands, slipping them over her ears.

Looking back at Ana, Hana blinked rapidly, noticing the woman was clearly requesting something by the look on her face.

"Get in," she said after a lengthy pause. "Or do I have to get Fareeha to push you in there?"

At the mention of her name, Fareeha opened her mouth to express her stout disapproval, but stopped when Hana took a single step forward towards the mech.

Her heart was pounding as a nervousness took hold of Hana, but she didn't show it. She bit her bottom lip as her gaze flicked to Angela. The blonde was expressionless, unreadable, but the way she was clutching at her coat made it seem as if she was worried. Worried about what - about Hana? The thought made her snort.

"You know," Hana began, peering over her shoulder towards Ana, "I've never even driven a damn car before. What makes you think I can work _this_ thing?"

"Desperate times calls for desperate measures," Fareeha interjected. Her tone was condescending and haughty as she stood beside her mother. "Now hurry up and slip your hands onto the controls so we can get this over with."

With a scowl, Hana looked to Fareeha. "You guys must be _super_ desperate then," she said, taking another step towards the mech.

_That, or you're all fucking insane..._

Without another word, Hana crouched down onto the barren tundra, placing her foot onto the polished leather of the Meka's interior.

"Arms in first," Fareeha said, shaking her head.

Shooting the woman a glare, Hana lowered her leg.

_It's not like I've ever done this before, bitch._

Going in a second time, Hana lead her arms forward into the mech before her peripheral became surrounded by nothing but dim green light. She had to wriggle and writhe, inching forward slowly as her stomach rubbed squeakily against the seat's leather. After a few moments of pushing further into the Meka, she finally found herself looking at patches of snow mold on the frozen lake, transparent through the cockpit's glass.

She was actually inside the Meka, wholly and fully. Taking in her interior surroundings attentively, Hana saw countless swinging dials, twist knobs, holo-displays, and the cockpit's glass itself had some sort of imaging on it. She could sense the thousands of man-hours poured into the machine by her country's laborers, and it gave her a sense of pride to be Korean at that moment. The way she was lying down felt awkward, but also natural at the same time. She was also painfully aware of how stupid she must've looked from the outside, legs dangling in the air.

A pair of blue steel boots had stopped in front of Hana's view before their owner crouched down. "Comfortable?" Ana asked with a grin. Her voice came from Hana's headphones, startling the pilot at the sudden intercommunication.

"Not the word I would use," Hana said under her breath. She wasn't sure if the old lady could hear her, so she frowned as a reply.

"The Koreans are working on streamlining pilot entry. But until then, what you did was just fine." With a small chuckle, Ana stood before tapping away at the device in her hands once more.

Just as Hana was about to ask what she was meant to be doing, there was motion. The ground got further away from Hana's face as she could hear the buzzing and whirrs of the mech from the inside. Her whole body lurched when the Meka stood suddenly, causing Hana to feel weightless at the top of its ascent. Looking below now, she could see the mech's legs, fully extended at all its joints as the back of it closed, encapsulating Hana within.

"A little warning would have been nice..." Hana muttered.

"Apologies," Ana said.

A jolt passed through Hana's neck when she heard Ana's quick reply. "Oh. So you _can_ hear me."

"Very much so. Those headphones of yours act as a transmitter too," Ana said. There was quiet for a few moments as Hana saw the woman hand over the device to Angela.

Angela's eyes were glued to the screen, her expression one of deep thought as she studied the numbers and graphs that popped up onto the device's screen. "Heart rate slightly elevated..." she said, "respiration is normal. Everything else is fine."

"Excellent," Ana said. "Now, child, listen carefully as I tell you what to do. We wouldn't want any accidents happening."

"I'm all ears, lady," Hana said, becoming acutely aware of what she was about to do.

Without missing a beat, Ana continued. "There's two joysticks connected to the fuselage that you should be able to see. Take a hold of them, but _don't_ press anything or go moving them about just yet."

Hearing Ana's instructions, Hana scanned the inside of the mech. Sure enough, there were holes on each side of the cockpit's window that lead into two apertures. On the outside of them were the joysticks Ana had mentioned. Eerily enough, their appearance was exactly like the ones in the arcade at the Busan plaza Hana would visit after school. The simple button layout and gun-like design made them feel like toys, and it made Hana realize they weren't kidding when they said the Meka had been outfitted to gamers. The fact that they made the controls themselves joysticks irked Hana at the tedious stereotype. She reached out between the gaps and grasped the controllers, the lining on the inside of her gloves pressing into her skin.

"That wasn't too hard, was it?" Fareeha said, her voice transmitting through the headphones.

Hana ignored the woman's patronizing tone. "What now?"

"Now," Ana began, "you walk. Just like how an infant must learn to crawl before they can walk, you must walk before you can fly."

_That makes no sense, lady._

"Fareeha," Ana said.

With a nod, Fareeha lowered her visor, walking into Hana's field of view before speaking. "Listen up. If you want to walk straight, push the sticks _directly_ forward. It may be a bit hard since you've got almost no muscle on those bones of yours."

Hana clenched her jaw. "I dare you to say that again," was her terse reply.

"No quarreling, you two," Ana said. "Do as she says, child."

Hana felt an exasperated breath leave her before she stiffened her hands. Bracing her shoulders, she pushed on the joysticks. There was resistance at first, but then the controls gave way, bending at an invisible junction as Hana's arms slid forward. Her whole body shifted as the Meka jerked. Its steps were heavy but refined as it plowed through loose snow on the lake's surface, and it responded consistently to the amount of pressure Hana applied. Relaxing her muscles, Hana felt a sudden bravery fill her as she veered the sticks slightly to the side. And sure enough, the Meka followed suit, swiveling in the same direction. Even the most minute of movements in Hana's hands made the Meka alter its course. The harder she pushed, the further the Meka's stride.

There was a gleam in Hana's eyes, a playful grin on her face as she realized she was actually piloting the darn thing.

"Well, well. We have a fast learner," Ana said.

Not knowing any better, Hana would've said she sounded impressed.

"Then again... that was the easy part. Now we can move onto the main course." Her gaze darted towards her daughter who had stepped in front of the mech, causing Hana to come to a halt as she retracted the sticks.

"Paying attention?" Fareeha asked. It was more of a statement than a question. Holding her hands by her side, she planted her metal soles into the snow, widening her stance before she hunkered down somewhat. Then…

Lift off.

In a split second, a plume of ashen smoke erupted from where Fareeha stood. Gray snow smothered itself onto Hana's cockpit window, obscuring her vision as a warm gale of exhaust blasted the Meka with enough force for it to skid a few inches along the frozen lake. When the smoke subsided, Fareeha was gone. Two little craters of melted ice were in her place, seared into the lake from the flash of heat. When Hana noticed the others were looking upwards, she followed their eyeline, and her eyes widened at what she saw.

At least fifty feet off the ground was Fareeha, her silhouette painted against the gloomy clouds, hovering gracefully as puffs of thermal air expelled themselves from the wings on her back. She was flying. Effortlessly.

"Rookie mistakes," Fareeha said, her voice crackling against the static from the winds high above. Hana could barely see it but the woman was making a list with her fingers. "First, never back off against the lift. Keep your hands on those controls until you're where you want to be. Second," - another finger - "don't take a breath in when you ascend. That is unless you want a collapsed lung from the pressure difference." With a third finger, she lowered her tone. "Lastly, _never_ hesitate. Second guess yourself in the midst of a warzone, and you're _done_ for." There was a break in Fareeha's voice that Hana couldn't ignore, emphasizing her last point.

Before she could think further on it, Ana spoke over Fareeha. "Bring the sticks together to activate the thrusters, and do as you did before to control the flight path." She backed away from the Meka, arms behind her back as she lifted her chin to the sky. "And please try not to fly the thing into the ground. I'd hate to have to requisition another from the Koreans."

_Yeah. Will try not to._

Hana took a breath, realization of what she was about to do made her hold it in. She was about to fly. _Fly._ Her breathing quickened, and judging by the look on Angela's face, she knew it as well from the information in her hands. Flying. The word made the air in her chest die. Fragments of the conversation with Angela in her bedroom came to the front of her mind.

' _You don't have aviophobia, do you?'_

_No._

It wasn't a lie. But it wasn't the truth either. Hana had never heard of the phobia's name until moments before. It wasn't flying that petrified her. It was something else she was scared of, something else that made the adrenaline sprint through her veins.

It was _heights._

Climbing a ladder, taking the elevator, or even peering over the balcony on the second floor at Salesian Academy; all of them made Hana freeze, unable to speak or move. It took a distraction, any distraction to help her recover from her momentary numbness. The only people who knew this were her parents, ever consoling and supportive in helping Hana overcome her irrational terror, but to no avail. She was surprised Angela hadn't noticed that Hana immediately knew what Xanax was when she had mentioned it back on the mountain, the small detail that could have given away Hana's aviophobic lie.

"What's taking so long?" Fareeha yelled over the line. "We don't have forever, kid."

Hana shook her head, bringing herself back to reality. Slowly, she grasped the joysticks once again. She forced herself to count seconds, something her mother had taught her whenever her fear surfaced. But her count was interrupted when she suddenly found Angela standing right in front of the mech, a look of pure worry on her face. With a care in her movements, she reached into the cockpit through one of the gaps along the side of the window, grabbing the side of Hana's headphones before slipping them off and onto Hana's neck.

"Hana? You alright?" she asked with a wrinkled brow.

"Angela, what the heck are you—" Fareeha began, but her voice was cut off when Angela flicked a switch on the side of Hana's headset, muting the airborne woman.

"Are you okay?" she asked again.

Hana looked into Angela's eyes, using up every ounce of her being to keep a neutral face. She opened her mouth, but no words came to her. Instead, she averted her gaze.

_Say something._

"Talk to me. No one else can hear us, it's muted," Angela said, tapping the headphones. Her voice was so sincere, just like how Hana's mother would sound. "What's wrong?"

_Say anything, you dimwit._

Unsettled, Hana finally turned back to face Angela, speaking the first untamed words that came to her mind. " _Nothing_. Stop being such a worrying psycho." There was an unintentional bite in the way she had said it.

Angela winced. She pulled her arm away, looking away with a chin that trembled ever so slightly. "Sorry..." she muttered. Her tone was monotone. Flat. Straightening her posture, she said, "Don't forget to put your headphones back on," before walking back to where she was beside Ana.

Hana felt something pull in her chest as she watched Angela walk away.

_Good one, idiot._

Placing the headphones back on her head and flicking the small switch on its side, Hana wrestled with her own thoughts. Should she tell them? That she was scared? Of _heights,_ of all things? No. She couldn't. They would ridicule her to no end. She'd probably get sent back to Korea, sent back to her old routine of pretense, entertaining sleazy old men and prepubescent boys. She wanted none of it. If she had to overcome her phobia to even have the slimmest of chances to see her parents sooner, to see their faces again, then she would look down from the plateaus of the Alps themselves to have that chance.

With a renewed sense of daring, Hana took the controls. She recalled Ana's instructions: _bring the sticks together._ Relaxing, Hana took easy breaths, a lightness in her chest. She pushed.

At first there was a grumbling thunder from behind, loud enough to pop Hana's ears if it weren't for the headphones she had on. Her prone body slid backward as the mech surged ahead, breaking up drifting flakes of snow into tiny particles as they struck the window. She could feel the throbbing of her pulse in her veins, her eyes squinting hard to see where she was going. Her hands had glued themselves to the sticks as she remembered Fareeha's instructions to not let go, to not hesitate. With one swift tug, she pulled the controls upwards. Gravity shoved Hana into the seat's leather as the g-forces felt heavier than a lead freight truck. The only things in her field of view were the heavens, the wisps of the clouds, and Fareeha's figure which remained high in the sky. It took only a few seconds for Hana to reach Fareeha's height, and it was only then did she ease off the sticks, keeping them together to maintain a levitation off the ground.

She was flying. She was actually _flying_.

The canopy of the woodlands were now distant clouds of green, their outer shell penetrated as Hana could spy details of undergrowth and shrubbery in the very heart of the forest. Across the horizon was Zürich, its urban jungle now in full view from the tips of the tallest skyscraper to the foundations of the most impoverished district. Even Fareeha looked pleasant from this height. The unblinking yellow eye in the sky gave her suit an azure shimmer, reflecting the mountain ridges and peaks that were now easily discernable.

Fareeha drifted over, her arms by her sides as she spoke. "Not bad, kid. Could've pulled up a bit sooner, but other than that, not too shabby." If the woman wasn't wearing that visor, Hana would've sworn she was smiling.

Even Ana sounded impressed when Hana heard her voice. "For a first try, it was… adequate."

Hana was tempted to look down at Angela, curious as to her reaction.

So she did.

And that was when she froze.

The landscape faded into a darker shade as clouds blotted out the sun, and time stalled as ice flakes quivered in slow motion towards the Earth. When she saw how high up she really was, Hana had to fight back a scream. Her blood curdled under her skin as her insides twisted. She gaped at the Earth, at how far it seemed. And just like times before, Hana's voice escaped her. Air passed through her vocal cords, but no sound came. Images of her past episodes flashed through her head, how every time her fear revisited her, she found herself frozen.

"Hey, kid, you listening?" Fareeha asked. But Hana couldn't hear.

Her fingers, curled around the sticks, loosened, slipping away. The blaring bellow of the engines behind her ceased as Hana and the mech dipped below the height of the pines, accelerating down. The ground was racing towards her, and in her paralysis, there was nothing she could do but watch. Her body became lighter against the seat before finally becoming weightless in the ensuing freefall.

"HANA!"

Plummeting, the only thing Hana could hear was her name being cried out.

The lake got closer and closer. Then, impact.

The cockpit window fractured into a million pieces instantly when it collided with the ice below, spilling shards, lacerating the skin on Hana's cheeks. The ice shattered as Hana and the massive mech plunged into the chilling water that laid imprisoned under the lake's frozen skin for so long. Water funneled into the cockpit, splashing up against Hana's face as the level rose at an alarming rate. An instinct spurred in Hana. She panted for the air that was about to be pilfered from her, taking in a gulp of it before she gripped the sides of the broken window, the glass cutting into her hands as she pulled herself out of the mech and into the icy waters. Darkness surrounded her. The water filled Hana with a deep dread. Her limbs thrashed against the water's tension, desperate to claw her way to the faint sunlight that broke through the surface above.

But all that did was use up what precious oxygen Hana had left as she sunk further into the lake's blackened abyss. Bubbles seethed from her lips, blurring her vision as red blotches danced in front of her. Cold water thrust itself up her nostrils, cascading a stream into the back of her throat and down into her lungs, shooting jets of pain through every part of her body that made her scream for air.

Her consciousness faltered, her limbs became numb whilst the red blotches faded into nothing.

The strain for air died down as the darkness finally swallowed Hana whole.


	11. Breathe unto Me

**_I don't own Overwatch._ **

 

Seconds.

Seconds turned into minutes.

And to Angela right now, minutes felt like an eternity.

Her throat was hoarse from screaming Hana's name at the top of her lungs, fearing the worst. She hadn't screamed that loud since she was a small child back at her parent's estate in Geneva.

How long had it been since Fareeha dived into the frigid lake? Too long. And Angela couldn't wait any longer. She couldn't just stand by and hope that Fareeha found Hana in the pitch-black waters. She had to do something. A tension filled her face as she stripped off her fox fur coat, letting it fall onto the ice before she broke into a jog towards the gap in the frozen lake. She had only made it a few feet before a hand grabbed her own, pulling her back harshly.

" _Yela'an,_ Ziegler!" Ana shouted, her grip on Angela tightening. "Sit still. Fareeha will find her."

Angela felt her whole body stiffen to stone. "They've been down there for too long. We can't just wait anymore."

"Fareeha has this under control and I've already called Lena back. She can carry the girl to headquarters. Have patience."

Narrowing her eyes, Angela tugged her hand out of Ana's, her worry morphing into a rising temper. " _Patience!?_ How could you possibly say that right now?! Your daughter is down there too!"

"Which is precisely why I know she'll find the girl and make it out in one piece."

Angela had to restrain her own voice, fighting back the urge to object to Ana's irrational composure. How could she be so calm right now? Her daughter was risking her life right at that moment, having plunged into sub-zero waters that may have well been at night given what little could be seen down there. Was she seriously just going to wait? Angela sucked in a breath, wanting to protest the captain's collectedness.

Minute popping coming from the gap in the ice. Both Ana and Angela looked over and saw bubbles rising, breaking the water's surface. At first, there were only a few of them, but they soon grew to an innumerable amount that finally lead way to a hand that jutted out from the water, and then another. They grasped onto the edges of the lake before Angela saw Fareeha heave herself out of the water, still in her suit, her hair dripping wet out the front of her helmet. Slouched across her shoulder was Hana, just as wet but, unlike Fareeha, she was motionless and limp.

Angela rushed over, this time without Ana holding her back. She crouched down next to Fareeha who had thrown off her helmet, laying Hana down onto the frozen lake before flicking her saturated threads over her shoulder as she huffed for the air that she had been denied for so long. Fareeha looked at Angela with an exhausted expression.

"I'm fine…" she said, heaving hard. "Help… the girl."

"But—"

"She's not… breathing."

Angela's eyes widened as a muscle tightened in her chest.

Ana was already tending to Fareeha, ordering Angela with stern eyes to go to Hana. With a pulse that felt like it was going to jump out of her neck, Angela slid across the ice where she cradled Hana's head in her lap.

The girl's dark hair was smothered wetly against her forehead. Her lips were blue from the raw waters and her skin was discolored to a snow-white.

Taking a hold of Hana's shoulders, Angela shook. "Hana!"

No response. Her eyes were closed, frosted over from being under Zürichsee's watery prison. She was bleeding too. Cuts to her face and hands painted her now-pale skin a nauseating scarlet. Angela knew if left untreated, she would likely bleed out from the wounds themselves. But the cuts weren't what concerned her right now. It was Hana's unsettling stillness.

Fareeha said Hana wasn't breathing, and judging by the lack of any movement from Hana's chest, she must've been right. Angela leaned down, placing her ear on Hana's sternum as she sharpened her hearing. A second passed, then two, then five. Nothing. She held a finger to Hana's wrist, her skin a bitter cold and sticking to Angela's own from the rime that crystallized between them. She prayed to feel any sort of disturbance, anything that would tell her of a heart that beat on its own.

There was none.

It was just as Angela feared.

_Look at what you've done._

Her eyes stung.

_You brought her here._

She swallowed hard, repressing her inner voice before she scrambled into action.

_This is all your fault._

Holding the tip of the girl's chin, she brushed away the strands that stuck to Hana's mouth, cushioning the back of her head before she parted her lips gently with a thumb. She held in a breath, then leaned in.

Hana's lips were lilac soft, but so, _so_ cold. The blood that had seeped from her cheeks made them metallic, and the purity of the water made them sweet. There was no resistance whatsoever as Angela exhaled, breathing life down Hana's throat and into her lungs. She eyed Hana's chest between each breath, watching it rise and fall so vaguely that one wouldn't think it was moving at all. Each breath was a gift, a plea for Hana to wake and shove Angela off once she realized what she was doing. But each breath remained unanswered as she pulled away, interlocking her fingers on Hana's chest before pressing, praying for _anything_.

"Please… damn it, please…"

Angela felt an emptiness inside her as she went on, breathing into Hana's icy lips and pushing down on her chest. Her arms were tiring, her head spinning with fatigue, but she didn't stop. She _wouldn't_ stop. And it was only when she saw Lena's faint Chronal-blue lines in the distance did she finally feel it.

A beat.

* * *

The room was quiet, save for the hushed chatter on the television that was mounted on the wall in front of the bed. Light bled through the medical ward's pastel green curtains, washing the tiled floor with Angela's shadow that painted her standing beside the bed, a hand on the rail. She hadn't eaten for two entire days, her appetite lost to the guilt that gnawed at her insides.

The girl in the bed was paying the price for Angela's blind following to decree. Even though her heart returned to its faint beating in her delicate chest, Hana's skin had become so fragile from Swiss frost, turning white at even the softest of touches. It pained Angela to see her like this. For a reason beyond her, she wanted to be berated, to be hated, to be yelled at - it would tell her Hana was still... _there_.

Angela would raise her voice every now and then, calling Hana's name. "Can you hear me?" After no reaction, she'd slouch her shoulders again.

When Lena brought Hana back to headquarters in her arms, Winston had already prepared the room, bringing the ambient air to body temperature and several layers of thermal blanketing. Ana managed to make it back with Fareeha who reassured she was fine and just needed a warm drink - _tea_ , Ana suggested. Looking down at the girl under the bed's sheets, Angela took a deep, pained breath.

' _It's all your fault,'_ the voice said again.

She bit her lip, unable to deny it. It was true. She was the one who brought Hana over, the one who had forced her into something she wanted nothing part of. And look where that landed things.

Angela was too absorbed in her own self-loathing to notice the door open behind her. Hairy fists pattered against the floor as she heard Winston's voice.

"How is she?" he asked.

There was a pause. "Stable."

"Good, good," Winston said. "You should rest and let me take over. You've been in here for two whole days now."

Silence was Angela's reply. She wouldn't leave. This was her doing, the guilt having washed over her like slow waves on a shallow beach. There was no way she would leave Hana given what she had brought upon the young Korean, but there was no way to make it right either. The remorse had chipped away at her for the past couple days.

Taking Angela's quiet as his answer, Winston sighed in resignation. "Fareeha told me what happened. It was lucky Lena was there at all. When I picked the girl up, she was colder than the snow this place is built on."

"Yeah… Lucky," Angela said, trying not to think of what would have happened if Lena hadn't come. "What did Fareeha say?"

"About?"

"About how it happened. I've checked the mech's blueprints for myself. There're too many redundancies for it to fail on its own."

Winston brought a hand the size of a barrel up to his chin, stroking it as he looked off into the distance. "She said everything was going fine until you muted the girl's headset. What was that about?"

"Nothing. I thought something was wrong when she didn't say anything for a while." Angela sighed. "She called me a 'worrying psycho' _,_ so I gave her some space."

_Big mistake._

"A worrying psycho? That's harsh. Even for her." Winston knuckle-walked over next to the bed beside Angela. "We're still not sure what happened though."

' _I'm not scared of flying.'_

Squeezing the chrome railings, Angela turned to Winston with a furrowed brow. "What did Fareeha say?"

"Well, she said the girl—"

"Hana, Winston. You can call her by name."

The gorilla tilted his head to the side momentarily before continuing. "She said _Hana_ operated the mech just fine. Walking wasn't an issue, and takeoff was normal."

_Takeoff was normal… so it can't be aviophobia. She wouldn't have flown in the first place._

"What else?" Angela prodded, pacing back and forth alongside the bed.

"Well… The mech apparently fell after being in the air for only a few seconds. Fareeha said it happened after Hana saw the ground."

"When she looked down?"

"Yes."

Angela dragged a hand through her frizzed, unbrushed hair, rubbing the nape of her neck absentmindedly as a thought struck her. "What else?"

Pushing his glasses up, Winston nodded. "Now that you ask, I do remember Fareeha saying something about Hana just... _freezing_ when the mech started to dip. That mean anything?"

Angela stopped her pacing, pressing her lips together as she had a light-bulb moment. She smacked a hand to her forehead.

_How could I be so blind?_

"There's _definitely_ nothing wrong with the mech," she said.

"Hmm?"

"Before we went out to Zürichsee, I asked Hana if she was scared of flying. She denied it, but I _knew_ something was wrong." She leaned over the bed, seeing only a tranquil expression. "It's not aviophobia. It's _acrophobia._ "

Winston paused for a moment before scratching his scalp. "Acrophobia?"

" _Heights,_ Winston. The way she froze, the spontaneous descending, the nervous shaking. She's afraid of heights. I've read about this."

Winston curled his mouth into an O-shape, but it soon turned into a sad smile as he forced a chuckle. "That's not good."

"You're telling me. I wouldn't want to be in that thing if I were scared of high places."

"I mean that's not good because Ana told Satya and Torb to mend the suit and fish the Meka out of the lake by tomorrow."

"What?! Why?!"

"So that the training can continue. One crash isn't going to change Ana's mind about the program."

"That's— that's ridiculous! She saw what happened! And she wants Hana to go out there _again_!?"

"Apparently so."

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"Ana."

"In the meeting room, I'd assume."

Angela gripped the railings until her fingernails turned white. She spun around, shooting Winston a glance, pointing to the bed's occupant as she walked out the door. "Watch over her. Text me if she wakes."

"Angela, I wouldn't try to—"

Winston's words became lost as she had already stormed halfway down the corridors, her first time out of the med-ward in two days. There've only been a few times had Angela ever expressed anything remotely resembling anger. However, this time, an aggravation had poured Angela's heart to the brim.

And it was starting to spill.

She only had to take a couple turns before she stood outside the meeting room's door. Bracing her forearm, she barged in. An unusually calm Ana, hunched over a circular desk whilst perusing loose sheets of paper, looked up briefly before returning to the documents before her.

"Quite the entrance, Ziegler," she said, not bothering to look at her sudden visitor. "How goes the girl?"

"She's fine, but why do you care? You're just going to throw her back in the mech and not give a damn if this happens again."

At Angela's tone, Ana raised a brow before straightening her posture. "I'm doing what's necessary."

" _Necessary?_ Is that what you think? The way I see it, you're putting someone with no experience whatsoever into a war on the basis that they were good at video games."

"It's what the Koreans want: gamers in all their mechs."

"She has acrophobia, Ana. We can't expect her to continue."

Ana gave her a reproachful expression. "A fear of heights, you say?"

"Yes."

"Hmm... I suppose that does change things. An inability for aquatics and an irrational fear. We sure know how to choose them." Taking the cup and saucer from the table beside her, she sipped on the steamy beverage, staring at the base of the cup with a glassy look. "Needs more sugar."

Stepping towards the table, Angela crinkled a few of the leaflets in front of her, her patience waning.

"Time for a change of plans then," Ana said. She waited for Angela to move her hand so she could undo the creases.

"So she won't be the pilot?"

"No, she's still our best candidate. We don't have a choice. Time just isn't on our side, Ziegler."

"Then what?"

"Since you seem to be so worried about her safety, why don't you oversee the Meka training then? Fareeha can handle the physicals and when Jesse returns from the States - which should be in a few days - he can go over the small arms training."

"You want _me_ to teach her how to use the mech?"

"You did say she had acrophobia, and you're the closest thing to a psychologist in this whole damn building. So yes. Do whatever it takes for her to get over it. Those wings of yours still work, don't they?"

"Well, they do, but…"

"Then we've nothing more to discuss."

Angela opened her mouth but shut it as she considered the option. Teaching Hana how to work the Meka? It wasn't that far-fetched since she had studied the mech's blueprints excessively during her investigation into D•Va's whereabouts. It was feasible. She hadn't put on her wings in a while so she'd have to get back into the groove of it all – _easy enough_. Fareeha wouldn't protest the idea either. Fareeha probably thought otherwise, but Angela knew there was a grudge match going on between Hana and her - Why? Angela didn't know.

Having flown many times before when she was little, Angela had no issue with heights or flying. Her parents were always traveling, whether it was for business or simple pleasure, they'd always take first class and she would have the comfort of a whole cabin to herself. The air hostesses would give her the stink eye, jealous as they watched a young Angela be so fortunate as to read novellas 12,000 feet off the ground with the sweetest of OJs in hand. Sometimes they would strap her down into her seat when the turbulence got rougher. Other than that, they would give her minimal attention. Soon her parents found out about the way she was treated so they opted to purchase a jet of their own where each of the attendants had been given hour-long interviews.

Flying in a jet was so much different to using the wings she'd been given by Overwatch. For one, there were no stewardesses to catch her if she fell. But Fareeha had taught Angela well, lecturing her on all the nuances to aerodynamics and the best ways to maintain a hover. Perhaps teaching Hana would just be a strange lesson come full circle.

"Fine. I'll do it," was Angela's timid reply.

"As you should." There was no pretense this time as Ana recoiled from her drink after another sip. "Never did enjoy Chamomile…" Standing around for a few moments, Angela cleared her throat. "Dismissed. Just remember our conversation."

With a small bow, Angela turned to walk out, but was stopped by Ana's stringent voice.

"Wait," she said. "I'm beginning to think your concerns sound above your duty of care, Ziegler. Tell me: are you infatuated with the girl?"

Angela turned rigid. She was thankful the two weren't making eye contact or else the Egyptian would've noticed the flush that crept across her cheeks. "No. And I have no idea how you came to that conclusion. My Hippocratic oath just has me more worried is all."

Closing her eyes, Angela prayed her answer was enough.

The mechanistic ticking of the wall clock in the room split the uneasy silence. "If you say so."

Taking that as her dismissal, Angela stumbled out of the meeting room, closing the door behind her, unable to shake the feeling that she had just told something parallel to a lie. She let out a wistful sigh, tilting her head back in an attempt to convince herself of her own answer. Having only walked a few feet down the hall, the shrill sound of whistling alerted Angela to someone else's presence.

Across the hall was Lena. Slanted against the wall, her lips were puckered as she trilled out a mischievous tune. On any other day, Angela would acknowledge the Brit with a simple smile before returning to the infirmary. However, the off-notes in the girl's whistling had Angela lingering.

"How long have you been standing there?" Angela asked.

Darting her eyes from side-to-side, Lena did her best to express surprise. "Oh, hey! Didn't see you there, Angie!" It was nowhere near convincing.

_Ugh._

"What did I say about using that name?" Angela asked.

"That it should be used whenever and wherever possible?"

"I… look, nevermind. Were you eavesdropping on Ana and me?"

"I'd do no such thing," Lena said. Angela was tempted to believe her, but when Lena blew at a lock of cinnamon hair, she narrowed her eyes. It was the Brit's classic tell. "Oh, crud. I did it again, didn't I?"

Angela nodded.

"Damn... Really got to work on that."

"How much did you hear?"

"Just a tid-bit about how Jesse's on his way back. Glad to hear D•Va's okay though." She blew at her hair again.

"Lena."

"Alright, fine! I heard it all." She lowered her eyes, but then looked like she'd remembered something as she beamed a grin. "So is it true then?"

"What?"

"That you like Hana?"

Angela's face turned hot. She shuffled her feet before walking further down the hall and away from the meeting room where Lena followed suit with a slight bounce in her step. "You're delusional."

"Oh my gosh, you totally do like her!"

"I didn't say that."

"But you didn't deny it either," Lena said with eyes that sparkled. "Come on, Angie. You've already told me which team you bat for, and to be honest, I don't blame you. She's cute."

Angela was speechless. She ushered Lena further down in case anyone could hear their conversation echoing through the sterile halls. You would think living so far into the twenty-first century would give people freedom in their choices. Alas, stigmas still existed, woven into the fibers of society, and Angela had firsthand experience with those stigmas during her time at her autocratic schools before Salesian Academy. She learned it was better to keep quiet about such things unless you wanted to be put on display as a black sheep.

"I told you that in confidence," Angela said, her voice now a whisper.

"You never told me you thought she was cute."

"Not _that_. I mean about my… _orientation_."

"Oh right. I never really thanked you for that by the way."

"Huh? What for?"

"When I was super confused about Emily." She rolled a shoulder. "It was nice knowing my feelings weren't just hormones going to my head. So thanks." She gently nudged Angela on the arm with a balled hand.

"Oh… you're welcome," Angela said, a smile gracing her lips.

"Come on, Angie. If an adorbs like D•Va was the only person my age around this place, what do you think would happen? I mean _seriously._ If I think she's appealing then you gotta think so too. We're on the same team here," Lena said. Angela frowned. "Don't give me that 'you're crazy' look. I swear I'll snap a pic of her to Em and see what she has to say."

"You'd take a picture of a person in a coma just to rate their appearance?"

"Yeah! Well… no, now that you put it that way." She placed a hand on her hip. "You always know which buttons to push don'tcha, Angie?"

_No, but I do know how to completely ruin someone's life by dragging them into the middle of something that almost had them killed._

Just as Angela was about to reply, her phone buzzed. She dug it out of her pocket, seeing she'd received a text from Winston. How the gorilla operated a phone keypad with fingers of his circumference always perplexed Angela, but the scientist always did find peculiar ways to do things.

The text was only two-words long: _She's waking._

With a tiny gasp, Angela shoved the phone into her coat, bidding Lena a swift farewell as she walked past her towards the infirmary. "I have to go."

"Oh we are _so_ going to talk about this later," Lena said with a smile that couldn't be contained. Just as Angela rounded the corner, she heard the Brit say, "Don't think this is over, ya' big, gay softie!"

A part of Angela wished Lena hadn't said what she did so loudly, but she knew the girl meant well. She was glad Lena and Emily's relationship had developed into something deeper. It gave her hope that even though one was in Overwatch, they could still find love, even if it was a love that was vilified by others.

With determined strides, she fiddled with the black gift-box in her coat on her way to the infirmary, with its recipient the only thing on her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update may not be on time because of IRL stuff... Will do my best anyways.


	12. The Name's

**_I don't own Overwatch._ **

 

The ache in Hana's skull ebbed and flowed like the cold tide of the waters she had inhaled, and the pain hadn't dissipated either. Having not touched a drop of alcohol in her life, she imagined this was what a fabled Saturday hangover felt like: a balloon in your head, slowly inflating, the pressure mounting to something ready to burst. Her senses came back slowly; the sheets were moist, cold with sweat - or at least she prayed it was sweat - her ears rang, and when she let light seep through her eyelids, her vision was nothing but a somber blur. When her sight finally settled, her eyes widened. She wanted to scream, but her lungs wouldn't allow it.

Waking to an old lady who enjoyed throwing dishes at your head was one thing, but that was nothing compared to a gaping pair of gorilla nostrils right in your face.

When she shrieked, Winston had sprung back as well, equally surprised.

Hana scrambled up the bed, her back pushing against its posts. The bedsheet dragged along with her, its coarse fabric chafed against her stomach which caused her to realize she was completely nude under its covers. Hugging the sheets to her chest, Hana stared at the dazed monkey.

"What the hell?!" she shouted. Her face twisted in on itself as another ripple of pain shot through her skull.

"Take it easy," she heard the gorilla say. "You've been out cold for two days. It's amazing you're even kicking after hours of hypothermia."

The pain subsided to a minor annoyance as Hana opened her eyes. The gauze on her cheeks made it difficult to blink and the skin beneath stung when she thought about it.

_Two days? Two days since... what?_

Winston must've read Hana's confused expression. "You remember, don't you?"

She shook her head, still clutching at the sheets, the tension in her neck having lessened.

"You crashed the mech into the lake and swallowed half a gallon of water. Fareeha had to go diving for you."

Another aching surge. This time it felt as if a floodgate had been opened in Hana's chest, causing her to remember the torrential suffering of what it was like to drown. Movies had desensitized Hana. Drowning wasn't all thrashing or a sudden realization. Your lungs didn't burn, you didn't think about the fact that you needed air because all you could think about and see was the light that tormented you, just out of your reach.

She brought a hand to her face, rubbing her lids. "That bluebird lady saved me?"

"The retrieval part, yes. But if it wasn't for Angela who resuscitated you on the scene, you'd probably be under the lake still."

_... Resuscitated?_

"You mean she did that mouth-to-mouth junk on me?"

"If by 'mouth-to-mouth junk' you mean CPR, yes."

Hana unconsciously raised two gauze-wrapped fingers to her lips, brushing them gently. " _Fuck._ "

"What is it?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. She slid back down onto the bed, embracing the comforts of hospital ergonomics.

Having someone place their lips against yours to keep you alive didn't count as a kiss, right? Because if it did, it would've been Hana's first, and it certainly wasn't how she envisioned it. There weren't fireworks setting off on the horizon or an angelic choir singing in the background. Heck, she wasn't even conscious for it so she was _convinced_ it didn't count. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she had just been robbed of... _something_.

She looked around. The room was devoid of beauty, its walls were a simple cream, and there was no decoration whatsoever save for the potted fern in the corner that gave off a plastic sheen. There were several drip stands and monitors beside the bed, causing Hana to realize the magnitude of the care she'd received. Rubbing her wrists, she was surprised she didn't have catheters sticking into her veins or tubes going up her nose. The wonders of modern medicine, she supposed.

"The pain will go away soon enough," Winston said. "What's important is that you stay put for a few days while we monitor your health."

"I'm _fine_ ," Hana said, but the resurfacing pain betrayed her words as she winced. She urged her legs to move, but her waking fright at Winston had depleted her, reducing her to only manage to wiggle a toe. She groaned.

"Not sure if you humans are just strong-willed or just plain stubborn."

"Both," Hana said with dull eyes. "Where is she?"

Winston narrowed his simian features, knowing exactly who Hana was referring to. "Venting to the captain about what we're going to do next." He cleared his throat before looking at Hana carefully. "She cares about you, you know."

"... Huh?"

"Ziegler. She cares for you. Stayed up for two whole days by your bedside. I told her I could take over whenever, but she wouldn't allow it."

Hana bit her lip. "Probably because Ana told her to."

"Nope. Entirely of her own accord. The captain's been busy with other things, leaving your care entirely to Ziegler and me."

"And why exactly are you telling me this?"

"Because, from what I hear, the way you treat Ziegler is… discourteous. Even Omnics have the politeness to know that when you're shown respect, you give it equally in return."

"Respect?! _What_ respect?!" Hana couldn't hold her annoyance in. She felt as if daggers scraped the insides of her throat when she raised her voice. "She's just a prim know-it-all who doesn't have the balls to talk back to anyone. _She's_ the reason I'm here - _she's_ the reason why I almost drowned for God's sake."

"Ziegler was against the idea of recruiting you from the start."

Glaring at Winston, Hana did a double take. "She was… against it?"

"She still is. Anti-coercion is something she's extremely adamant about. I've never seen her angry before… but that was before I told her that the captain wants the training to continue."

Hana was at a loss for words, a heat rising behind her eyelids. The sheets wrinkled as her grip stiffened upon hearing she was going to pilot the Meka again despite her gruesome performance days prior. But that wasn't what made her stomach tingle. It was the gorilla who had said Angela was opposed to bringing Hana here from the start. She couldn't tell if he was lying, but what reason did he have? Her constant worry, her kindness, the way she helped Hana despite essentially kidnapping her; to an outsider, Angela was a kindhearted godsend. But Hana couldn't accept it, no matter what the voice in her head said.

"Speak of the devil," Winston said as the room's metal door slid open, revealing a disheveled Angela.

With hair that was a catastrophe, no longer a silky blonde as split ends riddled every strand, and bags under her eyes, Angela was akin to a zombie. The lab coat hanging from her slim shoulders was soiled with stains and creased messily to the hem.

Angela's eyes met Hana's, and the two looked at one another for what felt like an entire minute before she turned to Winston. "Satya's done… with restoring… the suit. Could you get it… from the workshop?" She was totally out of breath.

With a nod, the gorilla upped his forelimbs to clamber out the door, but not before giving Hana an expression that reminded her of their conversation.

When he was gone, Angela's gaze returned to Hana as a slow smile spread across her face. "Glad you're okay." She walked over to Hana, her knees almost buckling as she regained her breath.

Hana kept her mouth shut, giving Angela a sidelong glance. Words evaded Hana, and being naked under the sheets didn't help her find any either.

"You should've told us. Or at least told me," Angela said after a pause.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Hana said, still clutching at the covers.

"That you don't know how to swim. Didn't you take those lessons back at Salesian earlier this year? If I remember right, it was mandatory for the entire class."

Hana huffed. "Yeah. But I was sick, so I couldn't swim," she lied. When everyone else was flailing about in the pool, she'd stayed in the changerooms, passing the time on her phone.

"Funny… I distinctly remember seeing your face there."

_And I distinctly remember the Taekwondo Club drooling over you and that one-piece swimsuit you wore._

"You didn't say anything about your acrophobia either. We would've done something," Angela said.

Hana flinched, looking down at the tiled floor. It was enough to give away to Angela that Hana knew what acrophobia meant. "I don't have to tell you jack. And how the hell did you find out?

Angela shrugged. "Guessed."

_Should've known, coming from the nerd._

"Go ahead," Hana said. "Laugh all you want. Nineteen, can't swim, scared of heights. Not the ideal pilot for your stupid mech now, am I?" She curled underneath the sheets, holding her knees together with her hands. Hana waited, waited for a snigger or the sound of Angela's condescending tone. But nothing came. Unable to wait any longer, she turned, only to be met by a sympathetic smile on Angela's face.

"Everyone has secrets."

_Always playing the good girl._

"Yeah? That including you?" Hana asked.

"Of course," Angela said, pulling at her coat. There was an awkward quiet before she spoke again. "I suppose it's only fair that I tell you what they are since I know yours..."

"No way. I don't want to know what kind of twisted secrets Miss Perfect has. It's probably something along the lines of: I'm the love child of Mother Teresa and Gandhi," Hana said. "Seriously though. Don't give me a sob story."

"Thank you."

Hana plunged her face into the pillow and groaned in response. She kept her head there for a while before turning back to Angela. Looking her over, Hana recalled what Winston said - _She cares for you. Stayed up for two whole days by your bedside_ \- and pulled a mocking smirk. "You look like shit," she said.

"Yeah." With an exhausted laugh, Angela returned a smile of her own. "It's what happens when you don't sleep for a while."

"You're not sleeping in my bed _this_ time."

"I don't plan to. And my room is right next to yours anyway." Angela walked over to the small table beside the bed. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a familiar looking black box, placing it on the tabletop.

Sitting up, Hana thinned her lips. "Isn't that the thing you bought from the bazaar?" she asked, pointing to the ring box.

"Yeah. Remember when I said it was a gift?" Angela asked to which Hana nodded warily. "It's for _you_. I was saving it for later, but I suppose I should give it to you now as a 'get well soon' present."

"For me?" Hana blinked excessively. "Wasn't that thing expensive as hell though because it was made out of some fancy stuff?"

Angela simply smiled.

Lifting the lid open, she plucked the gem out of its felt-covered shell. She held it in an outstretched hand and it lay there like a common rock; a rock that had been cut into the shape of… a bunny's head? Under the room's fluorescent illumination, the gem glittered the color of a sun-kissed ocean. Its polished, pink hue was so vivid it was how Hana imagined crystallized lychee would appear if such a thing existed. Attached to the jewel was a short, silver ball chain that had a much more subdued sparkle compared to its quartz centerpiece.

"Price isn't always value," Angela said.

_That's something only rich people say._

She prompted Hana to open a hand, placing the crystal in it before closing her fingers. Something fluttered in Hana's chest as she took the gem. It was cold to the touch and had a bit of weight to it. She opened her palm to look at it more closely, her other hand still clasping onto the bedsheets to cover herself. "Did you really get it cut into a bunny because of that one I saw back in the bazaar?"

"The Florida White, yes. I knew you wanted it because of the way you looked at it."

"You're so freakin' cheesy, I think I'm gonna puke."

"Oh… You don't like it?" Angela asked, trepidation on the edge of her voice.

Hana hid a smile, rubbing the rock with a bandaged hand. It was pink. Her favorite color. And her stupid grin wouldn't go away when she realized Angela had made an effort into giving the rock some sort of personal touch.

"It's nice," Hana said, dropping the gem back into its little box. "Thanks, dork."

Angela sighed with relief, but her ease was short-lived as Hana spoke again.

"Don't these types of rocks have some sort of meaning behind them?" Hana recalled how her mother wore a marquise made of malachite. It was a gift from Dad and was said to ward off evil spirits. Hana always thought it was a load of bull, but her mother wore it anyway just to keep Dad happy.

Sucking her cheeks in, Angela shook her head shyly. "No. Not that I know of."

"Hmph. It's all a bunch of crap anyway," Hana said to which the other girl nodded quickly. She slumped back into the bed, forcing a cold breeze under the covers that made her shudder. Staring at the ceiling, her next words were soft-spoken. "The monkey said I still have to learn how to pilot that… thing."

"Yes," Angela said, empathy written on her features. "But next time it'll be different. Fareeha won't be teaching you. I will."

" _You?_ You're not gonna fly around with a jetpack telling me what to do, are you?"

"Heavens, no," Angela laughed. She walked to the door, opening it before looking over her shoulder. "Don't worry about it right now. Just rest."

"Speak for yourself. You need a shower," Hana said, pinching her nose.

"Hilarious," Angela said. With that, she wobbled out of the room, leaving Hana alone.

Opening the box on the table, Hana brushed a finger against the stone again, a small chuckle leaving her lips as she put it back. Closing her eyes, she let sleep carry her away, but not before a stray thought directed towards the blonde invaded her head.

_Thanks for saving me..._

… _dweeb._

* * *

"The _shooting_ range?!"

"That's what I said, yeah," Angela replied. Her composure was calm, undisturbed by the fact that she had just told Hana they were going to teach her how to use a gun. "If the mech takes too much focus fire, you have to learn how to defend yourself without it."

Only four days had passed since Hana had been let out of the infirmary, awoken from her torpor. But already she'd been dragged out of her room, off to fulfill another sick prerequisite to becoming the Meka's pilot. At first, she was indifferent to being pulled away from her computer, but when Angela said they'd be shooting, she questioned the sanity of everyone around her once again.

"Given what happened out on that frozen lake, don't be surprised if I shoot myself in the foot or something," Hana said. The mech suit's boots clacked against the tile flooring as Hana followed Angela down another zig-zag of corridors. "And why the hell do I have to wear this thing everywhere I go?"

"So you can get used to it," Angela said. "And relax. Jesse's capable of teaching a toddler how to shoot. Even Lena was able to hit a target fifty yards away after he was done with her."

"Jesse? What's that short for… Jessica?"

"Please don't say that in front of him," Angela warned. "He wouldn't take it kindly."

"Sounds like a real hard-ass."

"He used to part of a criminal gang, so yeah."

"What'd he do, steal candy from kids?"

"No," Angela said. "He trafficked illegal weapon across the States before Overwatch caught him in the act."

"Yikes. So you guys thought it'd be smart to give him a job?"

"He's a good marksman," Angela said, rounding another corner. "I just wish Lena would stop playing pranks on him. He gets irritated quite easily." She leaned into Hana's ear. "Between you and me, I think he likes to act tough, but he's quite sentimental." She pulled away, a smile playing on her face. "Just like someone else I know."

"Pfft. Whatever," Hana said, rolling her eyes.

Angela stopped in front of a door, punching numbers into the keypad beside it before it slid open. The pair entered the room and immediately Hana's throat closed when the pungent smell of smoke wafted into her nose. She coughed, waving the smoke from her face to get a clearer view of the range. There were small metal booths lined up before her, lit up by fluorescent rods overhead, each of them giving an opening to the large concrete field across the room that was the firing range itself. Paper bullseyes hung from rafters down the range, each with a red dot in their center.

Angela had wandered over to a booth on the far side of the room, the only one where the lights were off. She beckoned to Hana, and when Hana walked up behind her, she turned back to face the shadow of the booth.

"Jesse," Angela said.

There was silence for a moment, but then a red glow pierced through the darkness, lighting up just bright enough to reveal a face before it faded just as quickly as it had appeared. Hazy rings of smoke floated upwards, twisting along their wayward path in clouds of milky white.

"Ziegler," a voice spoke. It was deep, rough, and sounded Southern, but with a refined complexity.

"Back from the States, I see. How's the arm?" Angela asked.

"Just fine." There was an incinerating crackle as another cloud of intoxicating smoke billowed from the shadows. Even Angela coughed this time. "This the new recruit?"

Bringing a hand to her throat, Angela nodded. "Her name's Hana."

The figure swaggered into the light, each step reverberating a curious _clinking_ sound, and when Hana saw the man from top to bottom, she saw the cause of the noise.

Spurs adorned the man's cowhide boots, their sepia color exactly like the rodeo chaps covering the man's legs. A tattered red serape hid most of his torso, and the wide-brimmed cowboy hat on his head covered most of his face. When he stopped in his tracks, he flicked the tip of his hat with a gloved finger, revealing tousled dark hair that went down to the neck. He was at least a full head-length taller than Hana, forcing her to look up at the stubble that ran down the sides of his face, gruff enough to light a match. His rugged beard defined his chin and nose, uneven and dark from the soot of cigar ash. Nut-brown eyes met Hana's as the man shifted the cigar in his mouth, grinning with surprisingly white teeth.

"Doesn't look like much to me, Doc," he said, looking back at Angela.

_Jeez. Sorry to disappoint, Clint Eastwood._

"Still not a doctor, Jesse," Angela said.

In the man's belt - that was cockily marked with the letters BAMF - was an umber-leather holster, big enough to reach the man's knee as it held one of the biggest handguns Hana had ever seen - not that she'd ever seen one in real life anyway.

Pointing to it, Hana hid a mischievous smirk. "Compensating much?"

Angela looked just about ready to pull her hair out, her eyes widening at Hana.

The man bared his teeth, his cigar crinkled at its edges as if it was going to get bitten in half. But then a hard smile formed on the man's face before he broke into a hearty guffaw. His rumbling laughter rippled down the shooting range, piercing the smoky air. Hana began to laugh nervously as well, and Angela just blinked rapidly in confusion. Then, the man's tittering stopped as he reached behind his back with his serape-concealed arm, and in a split second Hana found herself staring down the barrel of a pistol.

Instinctively, she put her hands in front of her before taking a fraught step back. "Woah."

Although the gun was smaller than the behemoth in the man's holster, it didn't petrify Hana any less. She desperately looked to Angela who was unusually calm given the situation.

"Kid's got humor, I'll give her that," Jesse said, the hardened smile returning to his face. He swiveled the gun around its trigger guard, flipping it one-eighty degrees before holding it in an outstretched hand towards Hana. "But you're gonna need more than humor to kill an Omnic."

Giving the man a sideways stare, Hana took the gun out of his hand. Before he could return his arm behind his serape, however, Hana saw it was entirely prosthetic; a chrome amalgamation mixed in with thin tubing that connected to his waist, accented by turquoise neon. For a second, Hana was tempted to ask about the man's arm, but an inner voice told her to keep quiet.

"Keep your finger off the trigger, kid," Jesse said. "Don't be like the Doc over here and go singeing your own hair on your first day."

"Jesse!" Angela shouted. "I thought we said we'd never talk about _that_ again."

"Hey. The kid needs to know," the man said with a shrug.

The gun was made of a laminated metal, pitch-black and cold. Hana grasped the handle, keeping her finger away from the trigger, as per Jesse's advice. The thing was surprisingly light. It made it difficult to balance in her hands, and she questioned whether or not the gun was real. Her suspicion only grew when she thought the gun looked like a child's toy.

_Oh. I see how it is. Give me a fake gun as a prank. Real funny._

"That dwarf said it's got good range up to three-hundred yards away since it's a photon blaster," Jesse said to Angela. He turned back to Hana. "It's a little light in the handle if you ask me." He lifted his chin in the direction of the booths. "Go on now. Try it."

_You guys have a dwarf?_

With a raised brow, Hana entered one of the booths lining the range. She turned around before saying, "You're not gonna show me how to use this thing?"

"Nope. It's fun watching first-timers pull the trigger."

She rolled her eyes, half-convinced that the weapon was nothing but a mere imitation.

But on the off-chance that the gun was real, she gripped it with both hands before letting out a prolonged sigh. She closed her eyes, retracting her shoulders as she tried to get the smell of smoke out of her head. Opening her lids, she tilted her head slightly and brought the gun's barrel into the center of her vision. She lined up the paper bullseye in the gun's black, iron sights. Holding her breath, Hana placed a finger on the trigger, and squeezed.

Light spat from the gun, releasing a glowing green missile that cut the air and hit the concrete wall behind the target down the range, missing it completely. The impact gave the wall a burning red crater, seared from the heat of the blaster's projectile. There was no recoil as Hana's eyes went wide at the damage she'd created.

"Holy shit," Hana said, dropping the gun onto the table in front of her with a clatter. She stepped back from the booth, turning to Angela and Jesse. "You guys actually gave me a _real_ fucking gun."

Chuckling, Jesse went into the booth, puffing on another cloud of smoke. "What makes you think it wasn't real?"

_It looks like a toy, for crying out loud._

"Because I didn't think you guys were stupid enough to actually give a total newbie a loaded one."

"We might as well have given you a fake," - the man pointed down the range to where the tiny smoking crater lay - "because you couldn't shoot a bull in a pen with the aim you got there." Taking the pistol off the table, Jesse inspected the thing in his hands. He swayed it around before saying, "Well there's your problem. It's _much_ too light in the handle."

"So what do we do?" Angela asked, stepping behind Hana. "Torbjörn's still out on Zürichsee fishing for the mech. It could be days until he comes back to make a replacement."

The adrenaline from firing the gun made Hana's thinking foggy, but a thought passed through her mind that made her walk up to the rugged cowboy. "Pass that thing over."

With a stern face, the man handed the pistol to Hana. "I know I talked trash about your aim just now, but don't go pointing that thing at me if you know what's good for ya'."

Ignoring the man, Hana reached into a pocket along the backside of the mech suit - it had taken her three days to realize the outfit actually had one - and she dug out the gemstone Angela had given her days before.

"Wait. That's—"

Hana quieted Angela with a sharp stare. She knew the blonde wanted to ask why she was carrying the rose quartz bunny in her pocket, but she would rather avoid telling her that she'd been holding onto it ever since leaving the infirmary. She liked carrying it around. Plain and simple. But she didn't want Angela to know that.

With the pistol in one hand and the silver ball chain in the other, Hana clipped the latter into the small keyhole sticking out from the pistol's grip using a tiny carabiner. She'd originally planned to turn the thing into a necklace. With the pink bunny head dangling from the grip, Hana pushed the bearded man out of the booth, surprising even herself with her newfound confidence.

"Easy there, Little Missy."

Pushing the man away, Hana followed what she did before. She brought the gun up to eye-level, but this time it felt like an extension of her own hands. The bunny head pulled up on the barrel's nozzle, painting the paper target down the range as clear as day in Hana's sights. She held her breath once more and squeezed the trigger.

Another flash of neon-green whizzed down the concrete field, striking its mark that lay yards away. But this time there was no crater beside the target. Instead, the red center of the bullseye had been burned to a crisp, its paper swinging gently from the hit.

With a satisfied smirk, Hana dropped the gun back on the table before turning to the people behind her.

Rings of cigar smoke breasted the air again as its long gray wisps curled into nothingness. "Lucky shot," the man said, and Hana couldn't help but feel a little smug.

Angela's eyes locked with Hana's and they shared a look that made Hana forget the stench of the smoke around them. She looked impressed, but she also had a sincere smile on her face, happy that Hana had been carrying the little gift she'd given her.

_Cute._

Taking the cigar from his lips, the man ashed it with a flick of his wrist before cradling it back in his mouth.

"Again," he instructed.

Smirking, Hana picked the gun back up, the quartz bunny dangling from it as she lined up her target yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week is going to be the last weekly update before we go fortnightly :(


	13. In the Arms of an Angel

**_I don't own Overwatch._ **

 

Fresh calluses thickened on Hana's palms as she gripped the bar again. She sucked in a breath before sliding under it, her back pushing against the padded bench as she planted her feet to the floor. Above her, her stern-faced trainer watched with a snobbish smirk.

Cursing under her breath, another bead of sweat rolled down the side of Hana's neck. "What's this one meant to do?" she asked, glaring at Fareeha.

"Chest."

"Are you _kidding_ me? We've already gone through like five machines that do that."

"Those were warm-ups. We wouldn't to break anything now, would we?"

"Can't you just shoot me up with steroids or something?"

"That can be arranged if you want to have a stroke."

_I wish you would've just let me drown._

When Hana wasn't tearing her body apart at the gym, she was washing the smell of gunpowder and whiskey-breath out of her hair from being around the cowboy. He even suggested a game to Hana called '16-Bit Hero' and thought it would improve her aim. Funny. He didn't seem like the gamer type.

Every day for the past week, Hana awoke to the sound of incessant knocking on her bedroom door, no later than 5:00 a.m. Often at times, it'd be Angela reminding Hana that Fareeha was waiting impatiently for her at the gym. She'd never pinned Fareeha to be a gym nut, but then again, the woman's built figure and athleticism had to have come from somewhere.

Hana had never even heard of a 'barbell bench press' before, but that didn't stop Fareeha from forcing a legion of exercises onto her that had her kicking herself for her impulsive agreeance to come to the gym. The weariness of almost drowning hadn't worn off either, giving her muscles a fatigue that was heavier than the weights themselves.

Why the heck was the place so damn big, anyway? The only person Hana had seen using the lines and lines of equipment besides herself was Fareeha. But apparently, the team had another gym-junkie; a woman that trained in the Russian national athletics program whose numbers towered even Fareeha's. The only word Hana could think of to describe such a woman was 'dyke'.

Brushing away the sweat from her forehead, she grabbed the bar again. "Now what?"

"Palms up, breathe in, then lift the bar off the rack," Fareeha said.

Hana couldn't help but admire the incredibly toned form of the Egyptian above her. Clad in nothing but a sports bra and lycra shorts, jealousy rose in Hana's chest. She looked down at her own attire - an old StarCraft shirt she'd won in an online tournament, and a pair of running shorts that hadn't been worn since P.E. was still compulsory at Salesian.

_At least it's not the mech suit._

Squeezing her hands against the bar, she lifted it off the rack. Immediately, the full weight of the thing pressed down on her, and it didn't even have any plates on it yet.

_Holy fu—_

Fareeha must've noticed Hana's struggle as she leaned down, her hands suspended above the bar as she spat out even more instructions. "Bend at the elbows, chin up, and keep going down until it touches your chest."

With a strained reluctance, Hana let the bar sink lower and lower before it touched down on her sternum. The fear of the bar crushing her ribs was the only thing that kept her going. It felt like a freight truck, and her muscles might as well have been lit aflame.

"Not so easy, is it?" Fareeha chuckled, grinning when she saw Hana's panicked look. "Here's the fun part: pushing it back up."

_God, no._

Teeth grinding against each other, Hana had no chance to retort. The vein on her neck was close to bursting as she somehow found the strength to lift the bar back up. Her chest burned, and the only sound she could hear was a high-pitched whining akin to tinnitus. Nevertheless, the pain in her muscles was exhilarating. Endorphins rushed to her head, filling her with a sense of accomplishment as she'd actually gotten out a 'rep'. But the feeling quickly disappeared at Fareeha's next words.

"Good," she said. "Now four more times."

_You're fucking joking._

"Can't..." Hana said. Her panting became heavier as her grip loosened. "Too… damn… heavy."

"If I can swim through freezing waters with you over my shoulder, then you can lift a bar with no damn weight on it. Here's a tip. Stop being such a wimp."

Hana bared her teeth. Anger made her want to defend herself, but right now every ounce of energy in her body was being used to keep the bar from flattening her.

_I'll show you a wimp._

Bending her elbows again, she lowered the bar. Her muscles screamed, begging for her to stop, but she fought against the urge as she remembered why she'd agreed to come to the gym in the first place.

If exhausting herself to the brink of passing out meant getting stronger, then that meant she'd be getting closer to finding her parents. Mum and Dad were still out there - doing God knows what in the war against the Omnics - and Hana finally realized she had the chance to help them. All she had to do was pilot that two-legged hunk of metal and she'd help them come home sooner. She didn't know if that was really how it was going to work, but it's what kept her going.

It's what kept her _sane_.

Willpower persevered as Hana pushed out another three repetitions. With only one left to go, she grinned. A mental numbness made her squeeze her lids shut in preparation for the final rep to come. With the salt of her sweat running down her lips, Hana lowered the bar.

But when she tried pushing on it this time, something was different. Something was wrong.

It didn't move.

_What the…_

Opening her eyes, she saw Fareeha's hand on it, right between her own. But instead of helping, the woman was pushing _down._ The Egyptian's jaw was hard and distinct as a cold grin flashed across her face.

"The fuck are you doing?!" Hana sputtered. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and her arms trembled, about to give way. Oddly enough, Hana realized Fareeha wasn't trying to push the bar down, but she was keeping it in place; trapping Hana.

"I think it's about time you and I had a chat," Fareeha said.

"Get this thing off me!" Hana kicked the air - a feeble attempt to budge the bar.

"Not until you listen, kid." Her tone was calm, undisturbed by the flailing girl beneath her. She growled before leaning in right next to Hana's ear.

" _Stay away from her."_

Hana's breath was bursting in and out, the shaking in her arms becoming uncontrollable. "The hell are you talking about?!"

"Don't play coy with me! You know exactly what I mean. Keep it up and you might…"—She pushed down slightly, twisting a desperate yelp out of Hana—"… find yourself begging for air _again_."

Writhing, Hana kept the metal inches away from her neck. The woman's threat didn't need veiling, and Hana snarled because of it. She couldn't hear own voice anymore, but words left her mouth nonetheless. "Fuck. You."

Fareeha's grip fumbled, almost allowing the bar to crush Hana's neck before she'd caught it with her other hand. She stared at Hana for the longest of moments before sighing deeply. Shaking her head, she lifted the bar back onto the rack with a resounding _thud_.

Dropping her arms to her sides, Hana sprung from the bench, clutching herself as the lactic acid built up in her limbs finally had the chance to leave her. Her pulse raced through the side of her neck as she turned to Fareeha. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Are you trying to kill me?!"

"No. I wasn't going to let it drop on you," Fareeha replied, running a hand through her hair. "Just had to make sure I had your attention."

"Attention?! For what?!"

"Didn't you hear what I said?" she asked with a downturned mouth. She snorted when Hana shook her head. "I said stay the hell away from her."

"Who?!"

"You know who."

 _Angela_. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Play dumb all you want, you're not fooling anyone," she said. Her irises were glassy, a tightness in her expression. "I've seen the way she looks at you, the way she smiles in your direction. I saw her tears when we were out on Zürichsee. She'd wipe them away, but I'd seen them already."

Letting go of her shoulders, Hana raised a brow. "She… she was crying?" Her stomach turned on itself, not knowing whether it was because of the thought of Angela crying over her, or the aftermath of her bench press. "Look. I don't know what you're so worked up about, but she's taking me out to the mountains later for some reason today. If you're just salty because you got replaced, grow a pair."

Fareeha's brow twitched as she clenched her fists. Something snapped. With a flare in her jaw, she stormed around the bench before leaning down right in Hana's face. "I'm not mad because of _that_. Why would I be mad about losing a hopeless student?!"

"Then what the hell is it that you want?!"

_Wait._

The thought hit Hana harder than a punch to the gut. She stared at Fareeha with an incredulous look, her nose wrinkled as she debated internally whether or not her hunch was really right. Even the Egyptian's features softened when she must've noticed Hana's moment of realization. It couldn't have been true. It was _wrong_.

"How old did you say you were?" Hana asked. The change in the conversation's tone became apparent when Fareeha's glower shifted to the floor, her anger gone as she relaxed her hands.

"What does that matter?"

"Because if what I'm thinking right now is true, then you need some serious help." The redness in Fareeha's face was all that Hana needed to confirm her suspicions. "No freaking way."

"What?"

"You're— You're _sick!_ You're like what, thirty-eight. She's half your age!"

"Thirty-two, actually."

"That's not the point! You've got a... _thing_ for her?!"

Fareeha's expression crumpled. She waved Hana back, pressing for her to not go on as she took a seat on the cold, leather bench. The fury in her features faded, replaced with a resignation that made Hana wonder if she'd gone too far with what she'd said. "You're too young to understand."

"To understand what, that you're lusting after a girl who's almost old enough to be your daughter?"

"Shut up! Shut. Up!" Fareeha shouted, her voice carrying itself around the hollow gym. Hana recoiled at the woman's cry, taking a tentative step back. Fareeha stood before pressing into Hana's space again, jabbing a finger in her face. "Who are _you_ to shame me? You don't know how I feel, how _wrong_ I know this is. The fact of the matter is, I've already talked this through with her."

"You… you have?" Hana asked. She couldn't keep the curiosity out of her voice.

"Yes. I admitted it to her, that I felt… _something_. But—" Her chin shivered as she wandered over to the nearby mirror on the wall, placing a hand on it as she stared down at the floor. Hana had to turn away, uncomfortable with the sullen image of the strong woman she'd thought Fareeha was. "But it was unrequited. And I've come to terms with that."

The words on the tip of Hana's tongue were scornful, so she swallowed them and frowned instead. She didn't know to react to the woman's self-loathing, but even Hana didn't have the heart to kick someone when they were down. "So uh… What did she say?"

"Hmm?"

"Angela. How'd she take it?"

Straightening herself, Fareeha huffed. "She was flattered. But like I said, she wasn't interested."

"Because you're a girl," Hana said matter-of-factly.

"No. She was fine with that, which was surprising. It wasn't even because I'm older than her - she just says she wasn't looking for a relationship with someone on the team; said it would... _complicate_ things."

A pang shot through Hana's torso at Fareeha's reply. Didn't Angela care that Fareeha was a girl? Something about the fact made Hana's racing heart skip a beat - or was that just a palpitation from the gym? She shook her head. "Look. Just because you got rejected doesn't mean you get to try and _kill_ me, for God's sake."

"Are you still dwindling on that? I said I wasn't going to let it fall on you." Fareeha rubbed her lids with a grimace. "I apologize. I just… I just don't want to see her get hurt."

"Oh, but you don't mind if _I_ do?"

She grinned. "I've given up on going after her, but that doesn't mean I don't care anymore." Twisting from the mirror, she stood in front of Hana, taller than ever with eyes that shined with malice. "I don't know why she likes spending time around you so much, but if you hurt her, I _will_ make your life a living hell."

"Listen, lady. I think you've got the wrong idea here. The only times I ever see her is when she's lecturing me on crap about the mech."

"Really? You've never talked outside of training?"

Hana opened her mouth, but her voice got caught in her throat. There had been odd moments within the past week where Angela would message Hana when she was streaming. Oftentimes it'd be questions about the game she was playing—'What does 'gg' mean? Why is your opponent so mad? I'm going to sleep soon, how long are you broadcasting for?'—but sometimes, even when she wasn't streaming, she'd get texts from the blonde. Most of them were just telling her to go to bed so that she wouldn't regret next morning's gym sesh. After a folly of back-and-forth, however, Angela would always end the conversation by asking how Hana was feeling. She didn't know why such a simple question kept her awake, but it was something Hana had begun looking forward to every night.

But Angela only asked because it was her responsibility, right? There was nothing else to it.

Fareeha cleared her throat, taking Hana's silence as her answer. "You can't be this oblivious."

"I—"

"Save it. Forget I ever said anything. Just…" She sighed. "Don't do anything stupid." She swiveled around to the bench again, patting the bar with the back of her hand. "You've still got two sets to go."

A pause. "Hope you don't think we're doing that again after what you just did."

"Relax. If you hurt yourself, I'd be the one getting a scolding."

"From your mum, or Angela?"

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Both."

Taking cautious steps, Hana laid down on the bench before gripping the bar again. Her mind was clear of the pain and soreness from the previous set, but she couldn't help but replay Fareeha's words over and over in her head.

' _I've seen the way she looks at you.'_

...

_What 'look'?_

* * *

Tall evergreens stood eerily as the silent watchers of the Swiss Alps. They swayed in the evening wind, their snow-encrusted leaves rustled as flakes of ice rained from their branches onto Hana's suit. Her skin remained surprisingly warm despite being exposed to a domain that was equally - if not harsher - than Zürichsee's. Angela said the hard-light architect had mended Hana's suit with insulated fibers, allowing the cold to be bristled off as if it were just a breeze. But that didn't stop the shiver that worked its way up Hana's spine, making her neck jerk awkwardly so that she accidentally bumped shoulders with the girl beside her. Hana could just make out Angela's form in the nearing dark - garbed in an illustrious, suede Winter coat, her golden hair done up in a tight bun - who was also trudging through the snow.

No, she wasn't trudging. Her steps across the plateau were light as feathers, her feet never dipping below the ice whereas Hana found the frost going as high as her ankles. She didn't get fatter, did she? Because if all those hours in the gym and sleepless tiring nights were for nothing, she was going to be pissed. Still, Hana wondered how the girl managed to stay above the soft hail, as if skidding across its surface.

"By the way, what took you so long?" Angela asked. "I was waiting for over an hour."

Hana gulped, feigning interest in the city lights of Zurich glowing in the distance. "Just forgot."

A lie. She'd been daydreaming ever since getting out of the gym, turning Fareeha's words over continuously in her head until she was dizzy. The gorilla's words from days before didn't help either.

She looked to Angela. Her sincere smile, her stoic nature, her unwavering kindness; they were just byproducts of her being the princess she was, and nothing more. She wasn't doing it because she cared about Hana. She was only doing it because she _had_ to. So why? Why was it _so_ damn hard for Hana to convince herself that was the only reason?

A burning curiosity spilled the words from Hana's mouth. "You know the bird lady's got a thing for you?"

Angela winced. "I'm aware of that, yes."

"And you don't care that she's a girl?"

"Not particularly."

Hana fought the bubbling in her chest. _What the_ _was that_. "But what about the fact that she's literally over ten years older than you?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her coat. "I'd really rather not talk about this."

Chiding herself, Hana muttered a silent apology, one that Angela might not have even heard. "How come we didn't bring the mech? I thought the dwarf would've gotten it out of the lake by now."

Her strides returned to normal. "Because we're not using it today... and how do you know Torby?"

"Torby?"

"Torbjörn. The dwarf you mentioned." She shook off the snow from her shoulders. "He's not actually a dwarf. Torbjörn's just a little short. Have you met him yet?"

"No. The cowboy guy just talks about him, and I was curious."

"Oh."

Pulling her leg out of another embanked crevice, Hana began to tire of the uphill trek. "If we're not using the mech, then what the hell are we doing?"

"Cognitive behavioral therapy," was Angela's calm reply. When Hana didn't say anything for about a minute, Angela continued. "Systematic desensitization. We're going to overcome your acrophobia."

"... Say what?"

She laughed, bringing a hand to her mouth. Hana wanted to see her smile. That pretty, pearly white smile. Hana had agreed to try and rid herself of her detrimental phobia, but she still hadn't a clue as to what Angela had in mind.

Angela stopped in her tracks when the pair reached a patch of flatland. "We're here," she said.

A wave of relief washed over Hana as she stumbled onto the plateau. Peering steadily at the skyline, Hana watched the sun's yellow-brown limbs wrest through the Alps' rocky ridges as the sky turned a pitaya pink, the same color farmers wanted during harvest. It was breath-taking. Romantic. At that, she stole a glance at Angela. Her skin glowed, her eyes sparkled with a warmth that made Hana forget they were even atop a frigid mountain.

Angela stepped to the nearby cliffside, and Hana nearly reached out to draw her back from the edge. The blonde peered across the fringe before looking back to Hana. "Is this too high up for you?"

"You bet it is." She stayed far back from the mountain's lip, not wanting a single glimpse of how far the ground was. "Don't tell me to look down there, because that's _not_ going to happen."

"The westmost hills are blocking the sun. You can't see much anyway."

"Still not doing it."

It was as if the air had frozen when Angela began undoing her coat. She slid the zipper down its length before letting it stoop from her shoulders and drop gently onto the snow. It was peculiar to see her wearing a chalky sweater half-tucked into a pair of black leggings. Maybe that was because Hana was so used to the lab coat. She forced herself to blink away from the girl's shapely figure, but an intrinsic urge brought her gaze back.

And that's when she saw it.

No wonder her steps were so light on the way up.

They were majestic. Magnificent. Hana couldn't turn away. She was entranced, enthralled by the wings elongating from Angela's back, their white elegance a splendor to behold. Slack-jawed, Hana ran her sight across their form. Their metallic frame glistened a halo-white, and the transparent plumage shimmered a radiant amber that spanned several feet from both sides of the girl.

Angelic, graceful, divine.

… _Beautiful._

Noticing Hana's stare, Angela tapped the ground with the tip of her toes, her forehead wrinkling. "What?"

"You've got _wings?!_ "

"Yeah. Something Satya helped me with. Surprised?"

"They're beau—" _Don't say it._ Snapping out of her stupor, Hana pointed to the wings. "Can you fly with those?"

Angela cricked a brow. "What do you think?"

_I think I can't breathe._

"I haven't used these in so long, so you'll have to forgive me if this takes a while." The wings splayed themselves against the purple horizon as gusts of air blew from their quills. Hana squinted as bits of ice and snow kicked up from underneath, watching as Angela rose inches from the floor. She hovered for a moment before touching back down. "I think I've got it."

"Wow..."

Walking over, Angela placed a gentle hand on Hana's shoulder who quivered at the touch. "What we're going to do right now… It's scary. But you have to trust me. _Please_." She squeezed before letting go, and Hana could just hear the plea in her voice.

"Okay," was her wary reply. As much as she wanted to deny such a request, Hana couldn't find it within herself to do so. But she reconsidered when Angela put an arm around Hana's waist. "Hey! What are you—"

The next thing Hana knew, another arm had swooped in behind her knees and Angela had snatched her up - in a damn _bridal carry_. Hana only managed to let out a single sound of annoyance. The blonde spread her wings, levitating the two a foot off the floor.

"Holy _Christ_ , how about some warning?!" Hana cried as she threw an arm around Angela's shoulder to support herself. Her chest pressed into Angela's torso, and she swore a flush fried her cheeks.

_Is that her heart beating a million miles a minute? No, can't be. She looks way too calm._

"Sorry," Angela said with a meek shrug. She walked towards the cliffside. "Listen. Whatever happens, don't look down."

Hana's eyes widened in protest. " _What?!_ Don't tell me you're going to—"

Her voice got cut off. Air rushed past her ears as Angela flew off the edge. Immediately, Hana froze. It was the same at Zürichsee. Her shoulders tightened, her hair lifted on the nape of her neck. Daring not to look down, she threw both arms over, wrapping them around the closest thing to her - Angela's neck. She held on for dear life, forcing her eyes shut as her stomach shifted from the sudden flight.

"Hana," she heard a voice say. Angela's. "Hana, look at me."

With a stubborn shake of her head, Hana buried her face into the girl's shoulder, clutching even harder which produced a minute _squeal_ from the make-believe angel. A wave of vanilla flooded Hana's nostrils, its scent much too enticing. "Take us back. Put me down..." Hana said. Her voice was trembling.

_God, get a grip._

The deafening sound of the wind in her ears and the inertia of the flight both stopped, but Hana's clasp hadn't loosened in the slightest. Was Angela actually going to take them back? Before Hana could dwell on the thought, a hand brushed through her hair. Tender. Caring.

"Open your eyes," Angela whispered. "You said you'd trust me."

That sound, the music in her voice. It was so disarming; Hana couldn't help but peek open a lid. What she saw was Angela staring right back with a smile so sweet, it made Hana loosen her hold. The way the girl's dimples crinkled. The way her teeth were perfectly aligned behind those soft lips of hers. The warm glow she gave.

It _hurt._

She didn't need to look to know the two were at least a hundred feet from the earth. And in that moment, any thought Hana had about how high they were evaporated into the evening air, replaced by a stirring sensation coming from the girl she was holding. Hana could even feel a light breath blowing through her hair. It roused her.

Hana's tongue loosened, allowing her voice to pass. "Was this your plan all along? To scare the living crap out of me?"

"Sorry, but that's how desensitization works."

"What, to just keep throwing me into the air until I'm not scared anymore?"

"For a lack of a better explanation, yes. It's working right now, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but that's only because you're—" Hana bit her lip. _That's only because you're holding me._ "Couldn't you carry me some other way? Like, give me a piggyback or something? Because this is just plain humiliating."

"I don't think I'd have the strength to do that. Besides, what's wrong with how I'm holding you now?"

_Everything._

"Nothing," Hana said. "Am I heavy for you?"

"No, you're fine. I mean, _it's_ fine," Angela answered, breaking her gaze. "If you're up for the therapy, it means we'll have to do this every day until your phobia's gone. But I completely understand if you want to try something else."

Hana drew back. The vanilla fragrance left her nose. She dared not look down, keeping her vision straight at Angela for she knew the shakiness in her limbs still meant her fear hadn't faded. But it was the first time in ages she'd kept her composure at such a height. She knew whatever it was they were doing, it was working.

"How often did you say we'd have to do this?" Hana asked to which she received a peculiar look from Angela.

"Every day."

Hana pushed her head back into the blonde's shoulder to hide the smile on her face, faking an acrophobic episode. What even gave her the urge to do such a thing, she honestly didn't know. "If that's what it takes, fine," she said.

There was a pause. Hana felt Angela's head shift as the two started levitating back towards the plateau. It looked so far away now.

As the girl's wings glowed brighter, it was impossible for Hana to not close her eyes and breathe in the vanilla aroma once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we go fortnightly :(
> 
> Updates from now on may be early OR late. If there's a delay, I'll edit it into this little note here.


	14. Nightly Ripostes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An early update because I had a bit more time on my hands, hehe.

**_I don't own Overwatch._ **

The sudden vibration of Angela's phone caused it to fumble out of her fingers and drop onto her face in a blunt blow. She winced, muffling a cry by biting down.

_Ow…_

Massaging the bridge of her nose, she sat up from the bed and rested against its headboard. A few hours had passed since she'd returned from the Alps for the umpteenth time, and exhaustion loomed over her like a perpetual shadow. Flying was a fatiguing endeavor. Were there alternative therapies for acrophobia? Yes. But she would never consider forcing Hana to take anxiety medications.

She'd already forced enough on the young Korean.

Switching her bedside lamp on, Angela ran her hand across the linen mattress until she found her phone covered by the pillow. Clutching onto it, she perked her ears and looked to the opposite wall.

Could Hana hear? Hear that Angela was watching the stream? A brief moment passed before the clicking of a mouse and keyboard could be discerned, uninterrupted in their flow. Angela breathed a sigh of relief before turning her attention to the screen in her hands.

The buzz had been an unread message from Lena.

(11:01) _Angie!_ _Did you know it's my birthday in two weeks?_

Angela _tssked_ at the mention of the nickname. She never should've shown Lena that song by The Rolling Stones. Fingers met glass as Angela tapped back her reply.

(11:01) I thought your birthday was last month. You guys went hiking, right? I remember because I was still in Korea when you invited me.

(11:02) _Oh, naw. I made that one up because I was bored. Pretty sure everyone knew but followed along anyway._

She grimaced. Satya had spent an entire afternoon working on a present for Lena that day but scrapped it out of perfectionism. A sigh left Angela's lips.

(11:02) It wasn't your birthday?

(11:03) _Nope._

(11:03) And to think I got you those aviators you always wanted.

(11:03) _What?! You got me a pair of Oakleys?!_

(11:04) Sure did – also bought a clock so you'd never be late to Ana's meetings again.

(11:04) _… Oh. OH. Hah. Very funny._

Angela smothered a laugh with the hem of her sheets.

(11:04) _I swear some of D•Va's sass has rubbed off on you._

(11:04) Maybe.

(11:04) _Definitely._ _You're judging me right now, aren't ya'?_

(11:04) For faking your birthday? Of course not.

(11:05) _Yeah, right. I can feel it from six rooms down, which reminds me... Girls' Night In at yours tonight? Don't think I've forgotten about our talk outside the meeting room._

A Girls' Night In? The last time they had one of those, Angela had to unfurl a futon since Lena had fallen asleep on her bed, snoring like there was no tomorrow. Angela wouldn't mind Lena's company right now, but the thought of the 'topic' they were going to discuss had her on edge.

(11:05) Sorry, but I'm trying to keep it down. Hana's streaming.

(11:05) _I know she is because I'm watching! Let me come over, pretty puh-lease? We could watch it together!_

Angela pinched the bridge of her nose, dulling the bruise that had formed when she'd interrupted herself in the midst of watching Hana's stream. She pressed her lips into a white slash, considering whether or not Lena could possibly keep her volume to a minimum.

Lena keeping quiet whilst watching D•Va playing StarCraft? A pipe dream at best.

(11:06) Unless you know sign language, we can't, sorry.

Before Lena could send over her inevitable crying emojis, Angela switched back to Hana's stream, smiling as she adjusted the volume. She could hear Hana from across both the partition and from the phone's speakers; hear her little yelps of joy, her wholesome lines, her sweet voice. All a facade, Angela knew - all for Hana's fans.

Angela had to admit, it was frightening how quickly Hana could change from such a reclusive girl into the sparkling persona that was D•Va, and although she didn't understand much of the game, judging by viewer reactions, she knew Hana was good at what she did. Really good. It made her wonder how well Hana could work the mech's defensive capabilities.

A gust of cold wind blew in Angela's face, causing her to look up. Across the room was Lena in her patented red flannel pajamas, standing in the doorway with her lips tugged up on each end. She fiddled a hand in greeting, her phone in the other.

Staring at Lena with wide-eyes, Angela mouthed with a high-strung face, _'What are you doing here?!'_

Skipping into the middle of the bedroom, Lena bent down to display the phone conversation the two were having. The last message Lena had sent made Angela's nose twitch.

(11:07) _Can't avoid me forever, Angie._

_Damn it, Lena._

Swallowing hard, Angela darted her eyes to the wall separating her room and Hana's. She prayed for a moment before looking back at Lena, clicking her tongue. "I said no, Lena," she whispered in a shrill voice.

"Girls' Night In!" Lena squealed.

Flinging her sheets in the air, Angela shot out of bed. The crisp night air blew under her nightgown causing her to shudder throughout as she ran over to Lena, cupping a hand over her mouth, the force of it nearly toppling the two. Lena muffled something incoherently, her mouth pushing wetly against Angela's hand.

Gross.

With her other hand, Angela brought an index finger to her lips, begging the Brit for silence with her eyes. At first, Lena tilted her head with that puppy-dog look of hers, but then Angela could feel the girl's smile returning when she nodded in understanding. Carefully, Angela pulled away, wiping her palm down the side of her nightie.

"Fine. You can stay, but only if you keep it down," she whispered. Frustration flickered in her fingers but quickly died. She could never be mad at Lena. She was childish, innocent; all part of her charm.

"Yeesh, when a friend asks for a Girls' Night In, it's not really a question," Lena said softly. "Besides, you've got _so_ much to tell me."

"I do?" Angela asked, drawing out the question. "About what?" The question was obviously forced.

"D•Va. Duh. Don't think I'm dumb, Angie. I know you've been avoiding me."

A chill went down Angela's back, stiffening her. This was the exact conversation she'd been dodging. She hoped Lena had forgotten, forgotten the ambiguity of what was said back in the hallway a week ago.

A hand tugged on Angela's gown as she and Lena found themselves sitting on the edge of her bed, a gleaming giddiness in the latter's features.

"Apparently, you two have been going on dates," Lena said.

_What?!_

A lump the size of a watermelon formed in Angela's throat as she screamed internally. She scrunched the bedsheets under her fingers, anything to fight the nimble cry trying to escape her chest. "Who told you that?"

"Nobody. I just see you two up on the cliffsides in the afternoons when I'm out jogging." She blew at her hair.

Angela eyed her for a moment, ignoring the tell. Someone had seen them together. "Well, they're not dates. They're sessions," Angela said. She swallowed. Was this a violation of patient confidentiality? No. Word had already gotten out about Hana's trepidation, and it was no secret that Angela was helping her overcome it. "I'm helping her get over her fear of heights."

"By carrying her in your arms into a sunset off the side of a mountain? Dang. If that ain't romantic, Angie, I don't know what is."

"They're not _dates_ , Lena."

" _Suuuure_ they're not," Lena purred with a wink. "And Winston's a dolphin. Gosh, you really are blind to your own feelings."

Rubbing her arm, Angela turned to the floor. Feelings? What feelings? Whenever she thought of Hana, an abnormal mix of guilt, sympathy, and eagerness always trickled to the forefront of her mind. It felt strange, wrong, right, all rolled into a ball that burst whenever she thought about it. Time had become so hard to kill ever since she brought Hana here, and it agitated her to no end.

Noticing her hesitancy, Lena tapped Angela on the shoulder. "You actually don't know if you like her, do you?"

Angela bit the inside of her cheek till it almost bled, shaking her head timidly to which Lena couldn't hold back her bemused laugh.

"This totally reminds me of when I met Em, and _you_ were the one helping _me_. Are you just scared she's not like us?" Her grin broadened, and Angela could just imagine the light bulb twinkling above Lena's head. "Tell ya' what. I got an idea."

Lena switched her phone on, and immediately Angela heard Hana's gratuitous voice coming from the device's speakers. She furrowed a brow when Lena began drumming away at her phone's keypad.

"What are you doing?" Angela asked.

Ignoring her, Lena continued composing a string of words. She hit the enter key moments later with a satisfied grin before turning back to Angela. "You know how stream donations work, right?"

A shrug. "Not particularly."

"When you donate money to someone's stream, you get to add a little message. Usually on D•Va's stream, it's just a bunch of guys asking her to say dumb stuff, but sometimes she gets questions and - since she's so cool - she always answers them."

_Oh no._

Panic. It took a hold of Angela in a split second once she realized what Lena had done. "You didn't."

"Didn't what?" Lena said, and her face exuberated a smugness that couldn't be contained by any physical force.

Snatching up her phone, Angela eyed Hana's stream. In her peripheral, she saw Lena kicking playfully from the edge of the bed, humming. Angela shot her a look, considering pushing her down onto the mattress before blowing into a full-on interrogation. But the thought quickly dissipated when she heard Hana's sugary voice.

"Oh! Looks like we have a donation from…" She paused, probably searching for how to pronounce the on-screen name of 'TraceWindu'.

_Seriously, Lena? TraceWindu?_

Giving up, Hana mumbled the name half-heartedly before going on. "Thanks for your support! And it looks like they have a question too. They ask: D•Va, I have a friend who has this _massive_ crush on you and your skills—Naw, thanks!—They want to know if you're down for a date. The thing is, though, my friend's a…" She paused for a moment, and Angela could tell Hana was lingering on the last word. "Girl."

The rattling of keystrokes from the other side of the wall hesitated. Even the viewers noticed the waver in Hana's actions as the chat had to warn her of the impending army on her doorstep. Then, as quick as the pattering of the mouse and keyboard stopped, they started again.

"Flattered, really," Hana began. "If she's into the game as much as me, I might consider it!"

The chat exploded and Angela didn't know what to feel. Her heart hammered, her head swirled. Hana didn't take the question seriously, did she? She was only luring on more fans, enticing them with a crude idea. But there was a tone in her answer that sounded so much like the real deal, and not under the guise of D•Va.

What in the world was Lena thinking? That Hana would just say out-of-the-blue that the idea of dating a girl took her fancy? God, no. Of course not. Still, there was a chance - one exactly like that of a wax cat in hell, but it was there. And that chance fostered a weird, uncomfortable, lukewarm feeling at the bottom of Angela's stomach that had her soften her expression, an expression that had Lena beaming.

"This isn't even funny anymore," Lena said, the smugness having not left her face. "Did you just hear that? She didn't mind my 'friend' was a girl."

"That doesn't prove anything," Angela replied. It was becoming difficult to keep her voice down. "She probably just doesn't want to peeve off her viewers by saying no."

"You gotta stop denying this _so_ hard. Face it, Angie. You're smitten."

A truth in Lena's words pierced Angela's heart like a needle. Why? _Why_ did Hana make her stomach somersault, her vision tunnel? What if this _was_ a crush, an oh-so-wrong obsession? Angela's chest hitched and she just wanted to shrivel into a ball for the impending anxiety attack as she came to terms with her own realization.

Lena continued swinging her legs and even began to sing. _"Hana and Angie sittin' in a tree. K-i-s-s-i-n—"_

Pinching her lips, Angela stood and grabbed the Brit by the sleeve which induced a tiny 'eep' out of her. She pulled the two of them off the bed and out the door, dragging them down the hallway until they were outside Lena's bedroom. Her hands shook Lena's slim shoulders.

"Alright. Let's say that I _do_ like her, that I'm attracted to Hana for some ungodly reason." Her words were rushed, her voice strained. "I can't do _anything_ about it." Her shoulders slumped and her head stooped.

Lena's hand touched Angela's as she asked, "Why not?"

"Because—" _Because I'm lying to her_. There was a pain in Angela's jaw as her throat constricted. She knew exactly why. The belabored guilt coursing through Angela's body every time she saw Hana was like a snooze alarm that wouldn't shut off; a guilt that manifested over keeping what she knew about Hana's parents away from her. It sickened her to the core. "I just can't, Lena."

Lena gulped. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

An opening, an opportunity for Angela to offload the burden that had been weighing on her for so long. She could tell Lena right here, right now.

_No._

It wouldn't be right to Hana. The only people who knew were Ana and herself, and she was going to keep it that way.

Squinting, Angela shook her head, and as much as she tried to hold it in, a tear spilled from her eye. It traced down her cheek, lingering on the tip of her chin before falling to the floor.

Lena gasped. The air became thick and Angela scolded herself for allowing herself to be seen like this. She wanted to hide, to put up walls around herself and not see the light of day ever again. A gust of the night wind blew through the halls, sending shivers down her neck.

"Inside," Lena said abruptly. It was more of an order than a suggestion. She lead Angela into the bedroom, identical to the others in the living quarters save for the Union-Jack-stylized bedsheets and pillow cases.

Crossing her legs, Lena sat on the pillow on the bed whilst Angela was content leaning against the nearby table.

Another stray tear threatened to fall as Angela sniffed, wiping at her eye with the strap of her night gown. A quiet passed between the two before Lena broke it, her expression pensive.

"Christ, I'm sorry, Angie. I—" She bit her lip, as if searching for the proper words. "I was just having a lil' fun. I didn't realize this actually meant so much to you."

"It's not your fault. I'm just… overreacting," Angela said.

"No. There's something obviously going on between you two, whether you admit it or not, and I wouldn't be a good friend if I didn't help you understand what the heck this is."

No response. Angela nodded for the sake of it.

Lena straightened, scooching across the bed so she could place a tentative hand on Angela's back. "So tell me - Why _her?_ "

The question made Angela's lips quiver. She wanted to flee, to just run out of the room and out into the night's freezing abyss, daring not to look back. She'd asked herself the same question many times before.

_Why her?_

She was insulting and mocking, but Angela wouldn't dare think of Hana as anything else. Was it her looks? Maybe. There'd been prettier girls in Angela's class at Salesian but Angela had never batted a lash in their direction. Not to say Hana wasn't attractive - she was, but in a sophisticated way; like how some girls were drawn to guys who used a straight edge.

So what was it?

Angela's head flinched back as her eyes grew wide. The thought plowed into her, her mouth suddenly becoming dry. She just prayed Lena hadn't noticed.

"Oh, I know that look," Lena said, slanting forwards. "What're you thinking?"

 _It's alright_ , Angela thought. She'd already told Lena the story. "I think it's because... she reminds me so much of myself before I joined Overwatch."

Staring in bewilderment, Lena quirked a brow. "Huh? You were a hooligan before you joined us?"

"No," Angela said. "Don't you remember the stories I told you about that school I went to before Salesian?"

"Oh! What was it again? I could never pronounce Swiss names. Civil Monstro?"

"Surval Montreux," Angela said as a discomfort pricked her insides.

"Yeah, that's right," Lena said. She rubbed the nape of her neck nervously when she realized where the conversation was headed. "Sorry again - for what they did to you. Were the people better about your erm… you know… at Salesian?"

"No, I never told anyone at Salesian," Angela said. _Not after what happened last time._ She'd locked that part of her past in a vault deep in the recesses of her mind, and she sure wasn't going to open it up anytime soon. "My point is, she's pretending. Pretending to be someone she's not – just like how I was."

_Is that it? Is that why?_

Lena nodded slowly. She knew it was best not to pry into anything about Surval Montreux - bless her heart.

"Look, it doesn't matter why I feel this way. Nothing will ever come of it," Angela muttered.

"What? Why not?"

_Because I'm using her like a sick, twisted witch._

"I—I can't say," Angela replied. "I wish I could tell you, Lena, I really do, but I _can't_. Don't you see? I need to forget; forget this stupid infatuation. It hurts."

_So damn much..._

Lena reached out to Angela, but pulled back at the last moment. She curled her hand into a fist before splaying her fingers loose. "Listen, Angie. I promised myself I wouldn't tell anyone this story, but it sounds like you really need to hear it." She sucked in a breath, continuing with a gentle tone. "I haven't even told Em about this." Gone was the bubbly glamor from Lena's face as she paused, then said, "There was someone before Em."

For a moment, Angela thought this was the set-up to another one of Lena's innocuous jokes, but the sudden stillness in the girl's movements kept her quiet.

"I first laid eyes on her when I was working undercover as the secretary to some dirtbag CEO. She was a stewardess on the guy's private jet and we met on a flight from London to York. She was—" Lena sighed, her forehead wrinkling. "She was gorgeous - spoke French, had these electric-yellow eyes, and she even had purple hair for crying out loud."

Angela smiled sadly as she painted an image of the woman.

"We went out to cafés, parks, and even to these crazy underground concerts. I didn't really think of them as dates, though, because this was before you helped me realize I was into girls. Looking back now, I really did like her." She stared at the ceiling, forcing a laugh. "I found out she was scoping out the CEO; making notes on his schedule, what he ate, where he lived, when he had appointments. It was seriously creepy. So when I confronted her, she let me in on a 'secret' and said she was actually working for a rival company, just checking on their competition. And like the stupid, naïve girl I am, I believed her."

"You're not stupid or naïve," Angela said, her voice reassuring. And when Lena squeezed her eyes shut, Angela walked over to the bed, sitting on its edge as she laid a comforting hand on Lena's shoulder. "You don't have to say anymore."

"No, it feels good to get this out," Lena said. She breathed in uneasily. "A month into the mission, they found the CEO dead in the bathroom of his jet - shot in the head."

"God."

"No kidding. Weirdly enough, it happened on the one day I called in sick to upload all the dirt I'd uncovered back to headquarters. But all I could think about on that day was _her_."

"She must've been terrified when she found out."

"That's the thing. I called to make sure she was okay, but she never picked up. In fact, I never saw her again. She disappeared."

Angela blinked. "You don't think she could've—"

"It _was_ her, Angie. On the guy's suit, they found a strand of hair. It didn't match anyone's DNA, but... it was purple." Her face turned pale. "I had to forget her somehow. I couldn't focus on work, and Ana must've noticed too when she put me out of action for a month after the incident." She turned to Angela, on the verge of crying. "It's hard to forget someone, Angie. Especially when that person betrays you."

Angela dared not see Lena cry, so she leaned in, embracing her in a hug. "So what did you do?"

They pulled apart and Lena ran a palm across her lids. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"Would never."

Lena smirked. "I prayed to this god I made up."

"You _what?_ "

"Sounds stupid, I know. But it really helped having something to believe in. I didn't name him, but I prayed to him every night to try and forget. I kinda imagined him looking like that fairy god with the bow and arrow you see in those old movies."

"You mean Cupid?"

"Yeah, but mine doesn't wear diapers."

Giggles filled the air, and for that, Angela was grateful. As Lena handed her a pillow, the tension plaguing the ambiance evaporated and, even if it was just for a moment, it really did just feel like a Girls' Night In. "Did it work? The praying?" Angela asked.

Lena curled her legs inwards, grabbing her shins as she swayed gently on the bed. "A few weeks later, I met Em. So yeah, I guess it did."

At that, both girls smiled.

For the next hour, conversation ricocheted from the pranks Lena had planned for Jesse and the events that'd happened on her fake birthday. Talk of the purple-haired woman, Hana, and Angela's time at Surval Montreux were forgotten, lost in the echoes of subdued laughter.

As time passed, Angela returned to her bedroom and climbed into her bed, rolling her eyes as she read Lena's most recent text.

(01:41) _I thought of a good name for my diaperless deity. How about, 'The God of Broken Hearts'?_

With a stifled laugh, Angela replied in a heartbeat.

(01:42) Sounds good to me. Night, Lena.

Tempted as she was to doze off, Angela had one thing left to do. Opening her phone back up, she sent out another message.

To Hana.

(01:43) How are you feeling?

A few minutes passed and, as usual, there was no reply – despite the clatter of fingers against keys in the other room. Hana had probably grown annoyed at the question since Angela asked it every night now. Maybe she should stop the texts, stop being such a 'worrying psycho'.

After throwing her phone across the bed, Angela flicked the switch on the nearby lamp, letting the dark surround her as she was left with a lone thought.

... _Praying?_

It wasn't that far-fetched of an idea and she was willing to try just about anything to fight the flames. She pulled the covers to her neck, curling up as she closed her eyes. The night's murmurs faded, and Angela found herself ushering a plea to an unfamiliar god before lulling off into a dreamless sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me way too long to figure out how to format a text conversation.
> 
> RIP fortnightly schedule :(


	15. Once I Realized

**_I don't own Overwatch._ **

"If I die here, I just want you to know that I totally blame it all on you," Hana said, stretching her neck as she wiggled her gloved fingers over the mech's joysticks.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Angela replied over the radio. "Just remember what I taught you."

"You taught me squat. You just carried me over the edge of a cliff a bunch of times."

"Well - it helped, didn't it?"

Hana twisted her mouth, turning quiet at the question - an involuntary admission. There was no way in hell she would outwardly confess that being held like a princess had helped deal with her fear. With every passing day she looked forward to her little meetings with Angela, looked forward to overcoming the phobia that tormented her like an irrepressible disease. And maybe, just maybe, if Hana managed to cure herself, she could finally plan that trek along Hallasan's mountain trails that her parents had always wanted. Her mom never said why they wouldn't go when they were still in Busan, but Hana knew.

She knew she was the reason they never went.

"And I think you got a little _too_ comfortable yesterday," Angela said, "when you almost fell asleep near the end of—"

"Shut up," Hana quipped, a flush creeping on her face. She cast away the memory of picking strands of blonde out of her own brown tufts when she had returned to headquarters from yesterday's session. It made her struggle to keep her heart rate down, and she knew Angela could tell from the circuitry in Hana's gloves. "Not my fault you bore the heck outta me."

"Sorry to hear that. I actually quite enjoy our little get-togethers," Angela said. "Maybe when you're comfortable with the mech, you could repay the favor somehow? Perhaps show me how to play that game of yours."

"Shut up," Hana said again, still feeling the heat in her cheeks. "Just… let me do this."

With no reply from Angela, Hana sighed, laxing her shoulders. The mech's leather pushed into her stomach as she braced her core, propping her legs prone into the back of the machine's carapace. Then, with a slight nudge on the sticks, the thrusters roared to life. The headphones on Hana's ears drowned out most of the discord, but she could still feel the resonance that shook behind her, throwing her senses into disarray.

"Breathe," Angela said. "You'll do fine."

_Easy for you to say._

Hana hadn't even flown the mech off the edge of the cliff yet and already Angela was spewing synthetic encouragement. But Hana would be lying if she said it didn't help ease her mind off the hundred foot drop below. Fear filled the hollow spaces in her chest. She didn't understand. Did Angela really think Hana was capable of flying the mech off the Alp's plateau without a hitch? A question penetrated her consciousness. What if she choked again? The snow beneath was packed to its surface to the hardness of ice. There was no way it would be enough to soften the mech's fall onto the jagged, pointed rocks and ridges below. Her hands were shaking, almost vibrating as she veered around.

She looked to Angela, yards away, her expression ever passive. Blue white light shone on her wings, making them gleam their luminous gold. Hana couldn't tell what Angela was feeling, but judging by the apprehension in the girl's tone from before, she'd guess it was a cocktail of anxiety and hopefulness. If that was true, Angela was doing well to not let it show.

Swiveling the mech back out towards the horizon, Hana paused. Frosted fumes, misted from the sun's setting rays, filled the air like milk as ice squeaked and cracked. She inhaled, taking in the smell of cold things. The cuts on her hands had healed, hardened by dumbbells and iron. Nevertheless, there was still pain as the actin in her wrists twisted and saddles of muscle in her back tensed, ready to push herself over the edge. Tendons strained. Fingers curled as she forced herself to push on the control sticks.

_Here goes nothing..._

The mech lurched, jolting Hana's body like a needle in her spine. Her eyes sprang open, gliding in their sockets as she surged off the plateau's fringe. Orange-streaked blurs colored her peripheral vision, forcing her attention on the vast openness ahead, its emptiness spurring a faint nausea in Hana's stomach. Her pulse quickened as the adrenaline flowing through her vessels ran like an untamed river. She eased off the sticks a few seconds later, maintaining a hover parallel to the cliffside.

Fear gnawed at the edges of her thoughts as a bead of sweat formed on her brow. This was how far she'd gotten on that day out at Zürichsee, the day she'd almost drowned. But things were different now.

Right?

They had to be. All those evenings of being cradled in Angela's arms couldn't have been for nothing. If anyone else knew what they'd done, Hana was sure she'd die from the embarrassment alone. Did she dare look down? Who was to say she wouldn't just freeze up again, plunging herself to a suffocating ice-bound grave. Sure, she'd glanced at the earth during her little sessions, but the rising fright could always be quelled by Angela's soft smile.

Aware that her thoughts were skirting much too close to the girl on the plateau, Hana followed the voice in her head, braced herself, and looked below. What she saw was the pure white of the snow sitting atop evergreens and barren patches of rock. Pure white snow, rocks, and… nothing.

Nothing.

A breath left Hana's chest when she shifted her gaze towards the sky, then back down. Still nothing. She pulled her face into an uneasy grin, seeing her hands remain on the controls as she looked downwards once more, unperturbed by the view. She let out an anxious laugh. It was forced. But soon, the artificialness of it gave birth to a speck of something genuine. A warmth radiated throughout her body as her heart drummed, singing almost.

"Hana!" Angela shouted over the mic. No doubt about it: she was worried. "Are you okay?!"

_Okay?_

Hana mulled over the word, her chittering becoming louder by the second. ' _I'm better than okay,_ ' was what she wanted to say.

But without replying, she tilted the sticks to the side, spinning the mech, snapping the air as she did so. Then, as if she'd done it a thousand times before, she steered the mech higher and higher until Angela appeared as a pin prick, her plumage now the only discernible feature on the ground. At the top of her ascent, Hana paused, her cheeks sore from smiling at her own giddy impulsiveness. She grinned again as she brought the mech into a nosedive towards the plateau. The blood in her head pumped louder than the mech's engines as the ground grew closer with each passing moment. To Angela, the scene must've been déjà vu, hence the sharp gasp Hana heard in her headphones. But to Hana, the rising weightlessness of her descent made her insides quaver, made her giggle.

It was undeniably thrilling.

At the last second, she pulled, straining her arms as she pulled out of the tumbling mirth, eliciting a cry out of Angela who witnessed the gaudy display. Skyward she climbed, high into the sun-split clouds, eyes trained on nothing but the burning blue of the stratosphere above. She felt like a lark, an albatross high in the evening quietude, hovering there, free from Earth's surly bonds. Minutes passed as Hana became lost in the pattern of flight. The blood from her neck pooled in her head as she experimented with an upside-down maneuver, but she quickly reconsidered when a faintness lingered between her ears. There was radio silence for the entire duration of it, and Hana was unsure if it was because Angela didn't want to break her rhythm, or whether it was because she was in awe of the aerial exhibit.

It wasn't until the skies had turned a blazing-sunset ochre did Hana finally land the MEKA back on the plateau, piloting it with a precision that one would think she had more than an hour of experience with it. She pushed the switch that Angela had shown her, letting her squirm out from the back of the mech before almost falling butt first into the snow. Catching herself, she grabbed the sides of her head in a disbelieving gesture.

She'd done it - she had conquered herself. The feeling was Hana's, and it couldn't be taken from her, not by angels or demons, heaven or hell. Her thoughts were scattered when she turned to Angela with a dry mouth, too excited to think straight.

Straightening, she cast a smirk over to which Angela reciprocated a smile of her own. And in that instant, an overwhelming urge poured itself into Hana's limbs, like dye pluming on a page as she found herself breaking into a run towards Angela. She stumbled, tripping over loose rock and snow, the only thing on her mind being the girl who stood far with the palms of her hands together, clapping happily with a beaming face.

"Knew you could do it!" Angela shouted, bouncing up and down. However, her eyes went wide when she saw Hana showed no signs of stopping. "Hana, what are you—"

The force of the hug swept Angela off her legs, hurling the two of them down into the white powder, flecks of it folding into Angela's coat and between the threads on Hana's suit as inertia rolled their bodies around each other, over and over through the snow. Perhaps Hana overestimated how fast she was going for she had knocked the wind out of herself when her arms wrapped behind Angela's back, candid at the contact. The pair must've rolled at least twenty feet before coming to a stop on the embankment of a hilly mound protruding from a crack in the ice.

Hana ended up on top, straddling Angela, holding herself up by the palms of her hands against either side of Angela's face, both of them now with heavy breaths. Angela's eyes were so intent on Hana's. It felt as if there was no distance between them whatsoever, even though they were an arm's length away. The wind blew, and Hana's hair fell in wisps across Angela's cheeks, grazing them as her words came out hoarse, scraping her throat.

"I could've done it without you, you know," Hana said, the smile having not left her lips. At that, Angela furrowed a brow and Hana laughed. "I'm kidding, dork. Thanks for..."—She looked to the side, averting her stare when she attempted to out the gratuitous words. They tasted like vinegar—"Thanks for helping me with my stupid heights thing."

With a face that seemed to shine, Angela replied with a warm, "You're welcome." She shifted nervously, crinkling her nose under Hana's gaze.

Amused by her timidness, Hana leaned down. "What? No one ever tackled you before?"

Angela's wings, spread in the snow, shrivelled inwards slightly, losing a shade of their color. "No, it's not that. It's just um…"

It was only then did Hana become alarmingly aware of the position they were in, at how close they were. She had never felt this close to someone, and this wasn't just because the two of them were literally touching. She thought it was around last week when the feeling began, when she'd heard a voice shout 'Girls' Night In' when she was streaming. It came from Angela's room, but it wasn't the girl's voice, and that fact alone sparked a malformed jealousy in Hana's chest once she'd realized Angela was with someone else.

Hana could see her breath blowing lightly through blonde hair, unsettling the loose strands across Angela's forehead. She glanced down at rose-colored lips, then back up to sea-blue eyes that met her own for what felt like forever. Angela had a vacant stare, one that wasn't looking at Hana, but _through_ her, almost as if she were wanting for something beyond. Unconsciously, Hana parted her lips, closing her lids, and gently tilted her head forward. She didn't know what she was doing. She was bewitched, under a strange spell - one she'd cast on herself. Everything slowed in that moment; the falling flakes of snow, the chill of the bitter wind, and time itself as she leaned down further and further. Then, Angela's rigid voice cut through the comatose.

"Stop," she stated. The curtness of it caused Hana to flinch as both girls looked away. In the corner of her eye, Hana saw Angela with thinned lips, her expression unreadable. "It's getting dark. We should be getting back to the hangar. I'm sure the others would be wanting to hear about the progress we've made."

Hana recoiled, icicles forming around her stomach.

' _Progress.'_

The word made her feel like a project; a burden, a parasite that Angela was desperate to be rid of and be done with. She had said it with such routine, such effortlessness, it pained Hana to the bone. With a pinched expression, she slipped to the side, off Angela, releasing the girl who stood abruptly, dusting pale flecks off her coat as she unfurled her wings, testing to see if the tumble had damaged them.

Seeing nothing wrong, Angela began walking back towards the mech, presumably to program its navigation back to the base. "Good work today," she said, not bothering to help Hana off the ground. "When we get back, I believe Ana wanted to see how you can handle the mech's targeting array."

Hana grunted in reply, and when she was sure Angela was out of earshot, she slammed her fists into the shimmering ice beside her before slumping down, limp, her arms outstretched as the heat drained from her and into the numbing frost. She pulled at the sides of her hair with a scowl, grinding her teeth, berating herself as to what in the world she had just tried to do.

_Did I… Did I really just…?_

She turned her head to the side, watching Angela float away. Hana took her gloves off with a huff, digging her fingernails into her palms, breaking skin, nearly drawing blood.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

* * *

Hana wasn't even listening to the old lady. Her mind was elsewhere, off in a netherworld that made the muscles in her neck tense with an anxious foolishness. So when Ana flicked the bearing ball towards the mech, Hana winced. The silver ball struck the mech's glass window, making a loud _thwack_ that made her jump in her seat, shattering her thoughts. She shook her head, honing her attention on Ana who stood across the hangar beside Jesse and Angela.

"Were you not paying attention, young one?" Ana said, picking out another bearing ball from the inside of her jacket. "Or is simple instruction a complete mystery to you?" She tossed the ball upwards, catching it in her hand, repeating this several times before turning to Jesse. "McCree. Is she ever this heedless during your training? "

Jesse rolled a cigar around in his mouth. He glanced at Hana, smirking before letting off a white cloud. "Sometimes, but I don't really give a damn because she shoots pretty well," he said. Hana smiled. "Quite the fast thinker, too - just needs a bit of polishing. A diamond in the rough."

Ana snorted, squeezing the metal ball in her hand with a frown.

The man's praise felt good. Giving the older woman a sneer of her own, Hana looked to Angela. It looked like she wanted to say something, but the indifference in her eyes said she wanted to be a million miles away right now. The two hadn't looked each other since returning from the Alps - not that Hana would want to anyway; she was scared what she might find in those deep-set irises, frightened of what she might find in _herself_.

Sighing, Ana spoke over the radio, her tone sharp with a hinted threat. "Again. And pay attention this time."

"Sure thing, lady," Hana replied, and she could just hear Ana gritting her teeth when she lobbed the bearing.

The chrome sphere arched high this time, almost hitting the steel ceiling. It took only a split second for Hana to squint and focus the object in her center of vision, watching it like a hawk. Hastily, she recalled what she was told to do. Gripping the mech's sticks, she hinged the controls until the bearing was in her line-of-sight, and pushed the pip on the stick's handle with her thumb. A shimmering green light pierced the air, beelining from the side of the mech to where Hana had aimed, incinerating the ball in a blinding flare that lasted a microsecond. It was comparable to the time Lena's pen had been vaporized, reduced to ash.

Just as Hana was about to comment on how the task was child's play, she heard Ana's voice again. "Don't miss _these_."

The next thing Hana knew, the glimmer of a hail of those silver orbs polluted the air, at least thirty of them scattered across the high ceiling. Her perception turned razor-sharp as her fingers itched. A peculiar muscle memory spiked the fibers in Hana's hands, causing them to jitter. Then, one by one, each bearing was plucked from the air, like popping bubbles with one's finger. Ash and cinders fluttered to the floor as the final bearing was carbonized, inches from the floor.

The resulting silence was only spoiled by the gentle patter of ember flakes on steel grating.

A minute must've passed before Jesse audibly puffed on his cigar and muttered, "Well, I'll be."

Turning, Hana saw that even Ana looked was at a loss for words, her eyes an empty gray now, narrowed, studying Hana as if she were a vicious experiment that had broken from containment. But her expression swiftly returned to its hard neutralness as she lifted her chin. "We've seen enough for today," she said. "Angela, get Lena to sweep this mess up." She was already halfway out the door, waving an offhand to the rest of them. "Dismissed."

Not much else was said after. Jesse strode out the same way as Ana, giving Hana a short-lived thumbs up before leaving. Whatever that meant, Hana didn't know, but it was nice to have the cowboy's approval. Hana slid out of the mech, dropping onto her heels as she scanned the room for Angela. She caught a glimpse of blonde heading down the corridor that lead to the living quarters.

She had walked out, having not said a word.

Hana ran after her. "Hey, wait," she called, hoping the desperation had been kept out of her voice.

Angela froze in the middle of the hallway. She looked rigid, but soon relaxed as she looked to the side, not turning around as she asked, "Yes?" There was something in her tone, as if she was… scared?

Catching up to her, Hana dipped her chin. What was she to say? Sorry that they almost brushed lips - that it was only because she was on a high from overcoming her long-time fear? Her voice came out croaky, unsure of her own words. "About what happened before."

No reaction. Angela was unmoving, glued to the spot, but her ears were perked, listening intently.

"I uh…" Hana continued, "I wasn't trying to—" _Where the hell am I going with this?_ She bit her lip, squirming on the spot, trying to come up with a reason for her impulsiveness. This was Angela she was talking to. Where the heck did all this apprehension come from? Everything in the corridor was still, like the whole world was waiting with bated breath for Hana's explanation.

When nothing was said for over a minute, Angela had turned, and when the pair looked at one another, Hana felt nauseous - it lasted only a second before it morphed back into a passive apathy.

"You did well out there," she said, placing a hand on Hana's shoulder. "I've never seen Ana so impressed before. You're actually amazing." At that, she squeezed, and a look flashed across her face, her pupils constricting. It lasted only a brief moment, but Hana already knew what it had meant.

_She's pretending..._

A muscle in Hana's chest tightened.

_Pretending like it had never happened.  
_

It was like a war inside her, and she didn't even recognize all the sides. There was one that said 'Be happy. She's doing you a favor and saving you the embarrassment.' But another part demanded an explanation to Angela's pretense, that demanded the question, 'Why won't you talk about what happened?' Nevertheless, a mutual agreement had been forged in the ensuing calm as Angela loosened her hold, smiling.

"Uh… yeah," Hana said. _Stupid._ "Thanks." Christ. She sounded like a fifth-grader confessing to their first crush.

"My pleasure." Angela swiveled, about to walk off when she stopped momentarily, stimulating a hopefulness in Hana. "Oh, and if Lena tells you her birthday is coming up, you don't have to get anything for her. She wants us to head out to Verbier Resort and said your present could be just coming along."

Hana's hope trailed off, dwindling. "A resort? Whatever happened to all work and no play?"

Angela did that cherub-like laugh, covering her mouth with a hand. "We're humans, not Omnics. After shifting some assignments around we managed to get Fareeha and Satya free, so it would just be the four of us lodging a cabin."

"A cabin? What are you guys doing, staying overnight or something?"

"Of course. It's a ski resort. We were going to leave the first morning after."

_Skiing?_

It took Hana some time to consider what was said. She'd never been out with others much after her parents had left. There were days when she'd gotten so bored of Mr. Halfred's lectures she snuck out of school and killed the hours at the nearby arcade, pushing whatever lessons she had that morning right out her ears. Ricky and his friends would follow sometimes, pacing behind, but Hana always managed to lose them in the crowds. She'd hate to find out what would happen if they had ever caught up.

But _skiing?_ Sure, it was different from the mindless shooting games at the arcade, but she'd never skied before. Alas, being holed up in her room for so long had her yearning for an escape, for a way to get away from everything for a while. Streaming had become dull, mundane - not even her half-witted viewers could satisfy her anymore. Seldom did she find things that excited her, and she was perplexed to discover such a thing - such a person - was right under her nose.

After a moment, Hana let out a long, low sigh, shaking her head. "Sure, I'll come, but only because that Lena girl wants me to."

_She is a fan, after all._

"Whatever makes you happy. I'm sure Lena will be delighted." Angela's voice was soft, as if forcing a calmness into it. She smiled and gave Hana's shoulder another quick squeeze before turning, leaving down the long corridor towards the living quarters.

Hana crumpled on the spot, almost tripping over herself. She straightened instinctively, hoping no one had bore witness, and went back to the hangar. Everyone had left, leaving her alone with nothing but the mech and the brittle wind that streaked in from the open hangar door. She was going crazy, Hana thought absently; her body wouldn't listen to her, her thoughts always finding the shortest route to one thing and one thing only.

 _Angela_ , she thought, the name driving her mad.

_Angela, Angela..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP fortnightly updates :( Can't promise a schedule right now. Ugh.


End file.
